


Halo - Hooker!Verse

by Karfraegh18



Category: Kane (Band), Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-18
Updated: 2009-08-17
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:00:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8695816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karfraegh18/pseuds/Karfraegh18
Summary: Summary - Jared is a hooker, certain and happy in his chosen career.  Jensen is an Accountant, fighting for custody of his son. Two worlds that collide with frightening results.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

It was the twenty that was pushed into tall guy's tight shirt that sealed the deal for Jensen. Meetings with his divorce lawyer had taken him away from Dallas, away from his soon to be ex wife, and the only good thing to come out of their marriage, their son. He was in the middle of a custody battle and he just needed to forget. To be true to himself for just one night. So he stood here, in a bar called Lady Ninas, and he watched.

 

He watched the man at the bar, saw him insolently leaning back, veiled eyes scanning the heaving late night crowd. He stood in sinfully tight leather pants and a Tshirt that rode up every time he moved, revealing a tantalising inch of beautiful golden toned skin. He didn't talk to anyone, inclined his head when people approached him. Each time he leaned down to hear, what Jensen imagined, were whispers of offered sin that poured from people's lips, shaking that same head each time. His hair was long, tousled in a just out of bed look, and as he lifted a foot to rest on the bar wall behind him he ran a hand throught the shaggy length, pulling it off his forehead and letting it fall back in the same artfull disarray. His slanted cat eyes were smoky and dark, lined with black, the harsh lights of the dancefloor casting shadows over high cheekbones, and he was obviously here for trade with the way people were approaching him. 

 

He teased them. Leaned in close to them, offering them views of what they couldn't have. A short man in an ill fitting suit approached tall guy again, notes held in a sweaty hand, notes pushed into the top of tall guy's Tshirt, his body language needy and in Jensen's eyes pathetic. The tall stranger reached long fingers into his top and spoke briefly to the shorter man, who stiffened and backed away, shaking his head at the money. What the fuck?

 

Something primal had driven Jensen from his blank walled hotel room, some itch inside him that 24 hour porn did nothing to scratch. He wanted... he didn't know what he wanted, pushed into a marriage, trying to be a father in a battleground of recrimination and war, trying to be a good straight husband. Seeing this god, this sin that jutted his hip into the room, pants leaving nothing to the imagination, it made Jensen harder that he had ever felt. Lust and need was building inside his body, suppressed emotions knifing him in his heart. If he was going to do it, if he was going to give into the lust, it needed to be now, and it needed to be with him, the personification of everything Jensen wanted, everything Jensen needed.

 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw another make a move, but this time, some inexplicable force drove him to stand and move from the shadows, it was his time, his turn. He moved carefully, bottle in one hand, knowing he had about $600 on him and fucking hoping it was enough to give his chance credibility. He slid onto the stool next to the guy and leaned subtly into him, causing the oh so fucking beautiful tall guy to look left, his lower lip caught between his teeth, his eyes narrowed.

 

"How much?" Jensen said softly, inclining his head, his eyes hungrily marking every inch of six four of sin, finally resting back on the kohl lined hazel eyes, his own pupils widening in Jade at the heat and smoke in he saw there.

 

"You've been watching me" the tall man answered, just as soft, turning to lean against the bar, his arm brushing Jensen's, a frisson of heat at the casual promise in the touch.

 

"Me and everyone else", Jensen pointed out, raising an eyebrow, "how much..." he repeated, "...for the whole night?"

 

"You couldn't afford me" tall guy answered.

 

"Try me" 

 

"I'd want at least two", tall guy said, brooking no discussion, lifting a beer to his lips, running his tongue over those same gorgeous lips to catch stray drops of the cold drink. Jensen watched in fascination at the swallow, the hands, the bottle, his dick threatening to break through his jeans.

 

"I don't have two" he said honestly, the set of his shoulders slightly lower, an edge of disappointment in his voice, can i hide $2,000, can i get it past the fucking accountants?

 

Tall guy leaned into him, his warm breath on Jensen's face as he spoke, beer and whiskey, a scent of cologne, the tang of sweat from his sheened skin, intoxicating, "you have very pretty eyes".

 

Jensen blinked, he had pretty eyes, shit, had this guy looked in a mirror recently, "Jensen" Jensen suddenly blurted out, instantly blushing and squirming on the stool, waiting for some comment, some comeback, stupid fucking fag, what the fuck do i need to know your name for, you waste of space, useless, fucking useless. But nothing.

 

"What do you want Jensen" tall guy said so low that Jensen had to lean into him, the guy's body radiating heat. What do I want? At this very moment I want my lips on yours and your hand wrapped round me, on this bar, in front of everyone, now...

 

"Want?" Jensen asked bemused, he wanted S.E.X. surely he was being obvious about this, he had never done it before, but surely... surely tall guy knew.

 

"Who do you want me to be for you?"

 

"For me?" Jensen thought about what he was being asked, he wanted to get off, he wanted to get off a lot, he wanted to lose himself with this heavenly body, for just one night he wanted to be himself.

 

"Who do you want me to be? Actor, lover, whore?" Tall guy was insistent in his line of questioning, his lips mere inches from Jensen's.

"I need... to..." Jeez, shit, what answer was he looking for?

"See if you are gay? Cheat on the wife? Scratch the itch? Whatever. Jensen look me in the eyes..." tall guy paused as Jensen did just that, "what do you want me to be?" he repeated, no hesitation in his voice, Jensen frowned, he just wanted the guy to fuck him, have him hold him down and lose six years of tension with this man's tight fucking body.

 

"I just want you to fuck me" he finally said truthfully, pulling back slightly, feeling inside that somehow he had blown this, that he hadn't answered correctly. Tall guy waited, watched, a thoughtful look on his face, and then he threw the money the other man had given him down on the bar and stood, uncurling his frame from the bar and standing tall, shit, so tall. He pulled Jensen's hand up, curling his own huge hands around him, tugging him away from the bar and silently Jensen followed, aware that people were staring, wondering why tall guy had chosen Jensen, why Jensen was different, why had the mousy accountant from Dallas been the lucky one?

 

He was led quickly to the no tell motel across the street, lamps low, casting surreal shadows about them as they walked swiftly, the heat in Jensen starting to explode out in a tangle of worry and fear. He had never done this before, never picked up a prostitute, never free to do it, what if no one knew he was here and this guy was a killer, what if.....

 

"Stop thinking" tall guy commanded pulling Jensen through the lobby, not stopping to talk to the man at the desk, the man who didn't even look up.

 

"Do you have a room here?" Jensen asked, his head spinning as they climbed one flight of stairs, the carpet thinning, an awful pattern of green on gold, and reached a door that tall guy just pushed open. Jensen stumbled in after him, eyes blind in the sudden darkness of the room and the door shutting behind them, leaving them standing in the half dark as Jensen's eyes adjusted.

 

What did he do now? This was so not him, so what the fuck did he do now? He turned and then stopped panicking, all conscious thought fleeing his mind as he watched tall guy flick on a bedside lamp, and then proceed to pull at his pants, his dick outlined stiff and ready, the zip sliding down revealing more skin, and more skin, until he was totally revealed to Jensen. Holy fuck.

 

"You're on the clock" tall guy said conversationally, piece by piece revealing more skin, legs that went on forever, and muscles, sculpted muscles, hard, so fucking hard. His words broke through Jensen's daze and in ten seconds flat he was just as naked, his shoulder rounding, kind of embarrased at what he was revealing to Mr Gorgeous and his perfect pecs. Tall guy looked cross... cross?... and Jensen found it in himself to drop his hands and stand looselimbed in front of his destiny. What now?

 

"What now?" he repeated, this time out loud, hoping against hope tall guy would just do something already.

 

"You want me to fuck you?" he moved closed to Jensen, his hands resting on Jensen's hips, his lips close enough again to smell the alcohol on his breath, "Tell me. You want me to pin you to this bed..." he dropped a hand and gripped Jensen tightly, just this side of too hard, and started moving his hand, twisting on the upstroke, Jensen feeling like he could come there and then, "... and then what, you want me to take you dry, punish you for wanting a man, instead of the little wife at home, huh?" Jensen was lost in his words, but he reacted to the words with a startled gasp, not dry, not dry, Jeez. Tall guy chuckled, "you wanna know the name of the guy who is gonna push you on this bed and mark you?"

 

Jensen nodded, he did want to know the name, wanted to ask him, tell him, plead.... "yes" he whimpered, orgasm building in his spine, his thoughts incoherent and jumbled.

 

"Jared", tall guy said, "call me... Jared... when I am fucking you... shout my name" he said in broken sentences, pulling Jensen to orgasm, success, as the older man arched his back and lost it hot and wet over his hand. Jared hadn't finished and pushed Jensen to the bed, manhandling the man onto all fours, lube in the drawer where he had left it, condoms a multitude of coloured wrappers tumbling on to the bed. He knew Jensen would still be relaxed from orgasm, and Jared could hear the harsh breathing of a man who had run a marathon. He didn't stop, used enough slick to ease his finger, a second one, twisting scissoring, drinking in the delicious sounds of this Jensen beneath him. He reached for a condom and sheathed his own hard dick, a third finger, a pull and he found the bundle of nerves, Jensen keening his name, Jared, Jared. It was enough and Jared entered him with little finesse, deep into the heaving man, hard hands bruising and gripping Jensen's thighs as he pushed and rutted and marked him. He buried a hand in Jensen's short hair, twisting his head round, leaning over him and grabbing a bruising kiss, biting down hard on the mans lip, drawing blood, tasting the metallic tang on his tongue. He wanted Jensen to get his money's worth, satisfied only when Jensen had lost it again beneath him, and then losing it himself, coming harder than he had in a long time.

 

Regret he had to leave seared through Jared as he pulled on his pants, catching sight of smeared kohl and the sheen of sweat in the cracked wall mirror.

"Times up" he said, grabbing at Jensen's wallet and taking out the folded notes in there, dropping it back on top of Jensen's jeans, not meeting jade eyes as they watched him leave, sleepy and sated from the bed. This was Jared's job and he was damn good at it, he didn't suffer one moment of guilt. Not one moment. Not even as cameras that had recorded every move sent images of Jensen Ackle's infidelity back to his wife's lawyers. 

 

Jared would be well paid.

 

And the wife? Well, she'd be guaranteed to get her son now.

 

And a child's place was with their mother.

 

Wasn't it?


	2. Chapter 2

Four years ago: Jared

 

Sighing Jared leant against the balcony, lighting the cigarette that dangled from his lips.

 

“Must you do that?” Came a voice from just out of sight. Jared smirked and flicked the ash from the cigarette onto the clean balcony floor.

 

“I’ll only do it if it upsets you.” Jared smiled vindictively.

 

“When you upset me, I’ll change my locks.” The voice grumbled as the owner moved into sght.

 

“Dan, you are far too uptight. You need to drop it back a few gears.” Jared told him. Dan shrugged and grabbed the cigarette from Jared’s lips and took a drag. Jared snatched it back and snarled something about people not buying their own. Dan snorted in response.

 

“Call it an acceptable extension on your rent.” Dan told him.

 

“Oh come on, you own this place. You don’t even have a mortgage any more. Why you uptight about rent?”

 

“So I can pay for the electricity, the phone, the gas, the water, the…”

 

“Yeah okay, I’ll go get the rent, it’s in my room.” Jared grumbled. Dan smirked and wrapped his arm around Jared’s shoulder.

 

“No rush Jay, just leave it out before you go to work tonight.” Jared shrugged the arm off.

 

“You working tonight?” He asked Dan, who shook his head.

 

“Nah, I’m taking the next week off. Need a break from it all.” Dan told him. Jared smirked at Dan.

 

“In other words your ass is worn out and you need time off for it to tighten again?” Dan scowled at Jared.

 

“You know that my clients rarely do that. The only reason I stand on that street it to keep an eye on you”. Dan told him, the seriousness in his voice belying the gentle tone, “I still don’t understand why you don’t come to work for the agency.” He added, Jared just shrugged.

 

“I like to fuck. Your agency doesn’t promise me a fuck.” Jared told him crudely.

 

“I used to do the same Jared; I just got smart and moved into the agency.”

 

“So you went from free range to battery pens.” Jared told him.

 

“Actually no, being in the agency is far safer.”

 

It was an age old argument, they’d been over this ground before, usually it stopped there, but there was something about the dark night that invited confidence and Jared asked what he had wanted to ask for a very long time, in fact ever since Dan and his offer of a place to rent had appeared in his life.

 

“Why’d you do it Dan? You’re so anti-corner yet that’s where I met you.”

 

Dan hesitated for a while, leaning back on the railing and sighing, he had been waiting for Jared to ask, had steeled himself for it.

 

“I was on that street when I was sixteen and my parents had thrown me out.” Dan told him quietly. “I worked damn hard to get off that street and that hard work has put a roof over your head.”

 

“Why’d you get thrown?” Jared asked him curiously.

 

“The usual I guess… I refused to be what they wanted. The perfect little son that will have the perfect little wife and produce the perfect little spawn. They wanted me to marry into a family that we knew. Would have given them more contacts and networked them nicely. They’d be just about able to control anything illegal that came in and out of the city. I told them it wouldn’t work because the family didn’t have a son.” Jared almost flinched in sympathy.

 

“The paramedics cleaned me off the street two blocks down from my folks place with a broken leg, two cracked ribs and a black eye. I stayed with my grandparents until the cast came off my leg and I could move around without a crutch and then I bolted. Folks were making my grandparents choose between them and me.” Dan slowly continued his story looking out over the dark city. He looked back at Jared’s pocket and moved around in front of him and leaned against his chest, his hands snaking down over the front of Jared’s jeans and reappearing moments later, cigarettes in hand. Dan smirked at Jared and gave him a peck on the lips.

 

“Thanks, I need one.” He grinned. Jared cuffed Dan across the back of the head and took the pack back.

 

“Doesn’t explain why you ended up on the corner.” Jared pushed.

 

“We all need to eat. I’d managed to get together enough small change from people to buy a burger and was walking along. I’d found a hostel to shower in and grabbed some clean clothes off a line nearby. I was near the corner and a guy pulled up in a car. He offered me fifty bucks for a blow job. I figured why not, I could do that. Ended up doing it a couple of more times that night. Stayed in a hotel room and slept in a bed for the first time in months. I asked around and found out about the corner. Turned up there that night and asked around; found out a few people’s prices. I made my prices five cheaper than everyone else. I eventually saved enough money to get a small place.” Dan told him. He turned and looked out over the balcony and down at the street below.

 

“Happy endings all round” Jared inserted sarcastically, it didn’t stop Dan from continuing.

 

“I got lucky one night Jay. I was working one night and a guy bought my services. We ended up going to a bar and talking for a few hours. He said that he’s asked around about me, heard I was good at what I did. He offered me the job in the agency. I started off not getting much money, but then I ended up working less and making more. They paid for me to go to school so I could sound educated while I was with clients at functions. They paid for my gym membership when I expressed an interest. They helped me get the finance for this place.” Dan told Jared. Jared shook his head.

 

“It’s not for me. I fuck because I like to fuck and getting paid for it just makes my day.” Jared told him.

 

“Think about coming to the agency one day. I’ve watched you grow the last few months and I care about you, I’d rather you were safe.” Dan told him and Jared nodded.

 

“I’ll think about it.” Jared told him.

 

Both of them knew he was lying. Jared was a loner, tall, strong, big built, muscled, a top, he didn’t ever have trouble. 

 

He was trouble.

 

With a capital T

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Now: Jensen

 

“Wake the fuck up Jensen, you stupid son of a bitch” words helped along with pushing and shoving, pulling Jensen out of the most god awesome dream. He half opened his eyes, Chris stood there, all pissed attitude and sparking eyes, his hands curled into Jensen’s covers, pulling them up and away.

 

“Chris... what the hell - ” Jensen managed to force out, his voice still hoarse from last night, suddenly aware of just how naked he was under the covers that Chris had pulled back and scrabbling to grab the offending sheets.

 

“You stupid… fucking… stupid… get the fuck up”

 

“Chris” Jensen definitely whined, he was convinced he hadn’t planned to meet Chris, so what the hell was he doing here at the ass crack of dawn, in Jensen’s apartment, in his bedroom, shouting at him. He rolled onto his front, his face burying in the pillow, wincing as his bitten lip touched the material, and he ran his tongue over the offending cut, instant lightening to his dick as he remembered Jared pulling at his hair and biting at his mouth. He groaned, wishing Chris would leave so he could take care of the need to come right now building inside him.

 

He heard Chris moving around the room, felt clothes thrown on him, and the noise of his laptop starting, the hum and beeps loud in the otherwise quiet room, he glanced over at Chris’s back, admired his suit, followed the path from his shoulders to his ass, and then to the right, noticing the alarm clock, which was showing as 14:23. Shit. So... overslept then, damn, well at least he had no work today, and he could have sworn he wasn’t due to see Chris today, so what exactly was up with the pissed attitude.

 

“This landed on my desk this morning from April’s lawyers”, Chris spat out, leaning over the laptop, ejecting the CD drive and sliding in a disc, pushing at the drive and turning to wait for it to autoplay, only standing back as the black of the background gave way to the green and golds of a bed and a room. Jensen lifted his head. That looked like.. like.. last night. It was a car crash, watching himself in the room, watching the man he had hired to fuck him into the mattress, the noises of sex, his pleas, calling the guys name as he fucked him, Jared, Jared, Jared.

 

Heat climbed his face. Heat and shame as Chris watched the young man push him on the bed and open him up.

 

“Stop” he said weakly, rolling up to sit, nausea threatening him, bending over, his hands across his stomach.

 

Chris turned to his friend, his client, anger burning inside him, sparking and spitting in a vitriolic attack. “Do you know what they are gonna say Jen, that you are one fucking pro at this gay shit, picking up prostitutes, allowing yourself to be fucked by men you don’t know, illicit sex, all the while in the sanctity of marriage”.

 

“I never…” Jensen began, confusion in his voice… fear in his voice…

 

“Your wife’s lawyers sent this by courier, no note, you were played, you fucking idiot”

 

”Chris… please…” please what? Please make it stop? Please, I’m sorry?

 

“It’s too late, we’ve lost this Jen, all over one fucking night, one misstep, we can’t play the wronged husband and upstanding citizen card now”

 

“Connor?”

 

”You’ve lost Connor, Jen” Chris had to be brutally honest, his temper was high, he wanted to hit Jen, cause him physical pain for his stupidity, knowing that he himself had lost his god son, but knowing much worse, Connor was lost to his father, the one person who could make a difference in the small boy’s life, taken out of the equation. “She’ll get it all now, she’ll take him to New York, and you will have fuck all say in it”.

 

“Chris, please, this isn’t what it - ”

 

Chris reared away from the laptop, up close and in Jensen’s face, “if you fucking say that, if you dare to say it isn’t what it looks like, I will lose it, so help me God. Tell me what I am seeing is wrong… that you did not pick up a prostitute and take him to some room where he proceeded to fuck you into the mattress for the taste of your money”

 

“Chris…” Jensen’s voice… he couldn’t speak… shock had settled in… ice in his veins as he contemplated the aftermath… realised what had happened… tried to make sense of it. He opened his eyes wide, Chris’s face, a face twisted in anger and disappointment, only inches from his, his blue eyes wide with temper, a flush of red high on his cheeks. His best friend from since he was five, Connors godfather, his brother, or as near as damn it, the one person that knew everything, even the stuff where Jensen admitted he was gay. What could he say? He could say sorry, but it wasn’t a sorry to Chris, it was a sorry that should be said to his four year old son,. It was Connor he had let down. Connor he had lost with his stupidity. Tears built in him, a grief so deep it forced a sob from him that took both him and Chris by surprise, a sob soon joined by free falling tears of self hatred and despair.

 

“Jen - ” Chris began, tears bright in his own eyes, some of the anger in him tailing off to see the anguish in his friend. He caught Jensen’s hand in his, holding it tight, wanting to promise his best friend that it would be OK, wanting to lie.

 

“Help me. Chris, help me”.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Chris pushed Jensen into the shower, said he needed to make calls, said Jensen shouldn’t worry until Chris had all the facts. But Jensen knew. Knew what he had done. Years of denial and then one night, one freaking night, and as he stood in front of the mirror he could see. See the actual marks on his neck, feel the guys hands on him, see the crack in his lip where teeth had pushed through and broken his skin. 

 

Shame and humiliation washed through him, and he bowed his head. He could almost taste this Jared, this hooker, this aberration in Jensen’s life. Chris was outside trying to salvage something, he knew that. Jensen had always had the moral high ground, his ex, April, the product of those same years of denial, had been playing around. There had even been concern over paternity, but as soon as Connor was born, all dark hair, freckles, green eyes and attitude, it was obvious he was Jensens. It didn’t matter. As soon as Jensen held him, his tiny curled up form in his hands, a healthy set of lungs squawling and bleating for milk, he lost his heart. It saved his marriage. Kept him at home, even when April’s discretions became more obvious, until the day she asked Jensen to leave. It was amicable. 

 

It broke his heart to see Connor less, he missed him more than breathing, missed night time stories, cereal fights, sticky soft cuddles, and the complete adoration that a small boy carries for his daddy. April was fair, they shared Connor, every other day he saw him, sometimes had him for whole weekends, watching him grow. 

 

And then she met him. Alistair. Alistair the guy who worked in shipping, with the promotion to New York, and the wont it be wonderful for Connor to see the rest of America. 

 

You’re not taking my son, no, no way.

 

Thug, that was the word Jensen used to describe Alistair. He had eyes that never quite met other peoples, a cell phone that never left his side, acquaintances that Jensen wouldn’t say hello to in the street… it all added up to a desperation in him to never let this man become step dad to his son. And so his battle began. He tried to collect evidence, photos and stories, he dug and researched, but nothing was enough to get Connor away from his besotted soon to be ex wife and her thug of a boyfriend.

 

His first phone call had been to Chris. His best friend, his lawyer.

 

Help me Chris, help me.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

In the shower he didn’t realise it but he was trying, and failing, to scrape away the sex, the scent of Jared, the feel of him. As if soap and water could remove the lust, the want, the need that outweighed, if only for a second, the life of his son. He scrubbed until his pale freckled skin was pink and scarred with faint lines and he repeated over and over, simple prayers in his head, pleading for last night not to have happened. Promising his soul to anyone, just to wind back the clock to erase his stupidity, erase his shame.

 

The water ran cold before he found the courage to leave the shower, wrapping in a towel and moving through to the bedroom, pulling on sweats and a T, rough drying short spiky hair and unable to meet his own eyes in the mirror. He stopped at the closed door; aware it was the last barrier between his cowardice and what Chris had to tell him, and drawing in a deep breath he pushed the door open.

 

Chris didn’t turn to face him, his cell phone hanging loosely in his right hand, the other hand braced on the window as he looked down on the street scene below.

 

“I tried Jensen, they called for you to drop everything, any claim -”

 

”They can’t do that - ”

 

“No, but they can drag this out, drag it through the courts, Jensen…” Chris stopped on a sigh, steeling himself for the pain he knew he would see in his friend and turned from the window. Nothing prepared him for the worst expression he could have hoped never to see, naked hope, and confidence that Chris would be able to do something, anything.

 

“Chris?” doubt was lacing Jensen’s voice and he took a step closer, stopping as Chris held up a hand to silence him.

 

“Listen to me Jensen, we need to settle, need to compromise, this Alistair guy, he has lawyers too, they have this disc, they’ll use it, bring it out into the open”

 

“I don’t give a shit what people think about me”, Jensen’s quick comment pulled and twisted at Chris’s rising anger.

 

“You may not care what it does to you, or your reputation, but think about Connor man. I’ve tried Jen, I can get you supervised visits and maybe a summer break or Christmas holiday, but shit, you have nothing else to play with. I can’t push it any more, not until this all settles down”

 

”We’ll find the guy, it was once, this prostitute, get him to…” Jensen’s voice tailed off, he didn’t really know what he was saying.

 

Chris snapped, ”Get him to what? Provide a character reference?” Jensen winced at Chris’s harsh words; despite knowing what he said was true. “You can find the hooker, we know it was a set up, but you wont be able to prove a thing, and he wont own up, lets face it Jen, you are screwed, this is fucked, and in the middle of it is Connor”

 

“Tell me what I need to do Chris, how can I fix this?”

 

”You can’t Jen” his voice was hard, but there was compassion in his eyes as he closed the gap between them and held Jensen standing even as his friends legs threatened to give way. “I’m sorry”, Chris pulled him in close in a tight hug, Jensen curling hands into his friends shirt, his head spinning, what had he done

 

What have I done

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

Chapter 3>>

...

 

When Jared opened his bathroom door to find Dan sitting on his sofa several things went through his head at once. It wasn’t that he was worried he was naked; it was after all his apartment so any unannounced visitors would have to take him as they found him. It wasn’t that his last client had pulled too hard on the bar through his nipple, which was a first, leaving it bruised and sore looking. It wasn’t even that he really needed to be out in the next twenty for a client.

 

It was simply three things. He had better have brought my money, he’d better not be bugged and how the fuck did he get through security to be sitting in his apartment. Jared drew himself taller, snagging sweats from the chair and pulling them on; if he was gonna kick ass then he at least wanted to be dressed. He then stood and glared, often finding that saying nothing was the best way to get other people to talk. Dan stood, handing him the envelope, which Jared immediately opened to look inside. He thumbed through a whole raft of $100 and $500 bills, gauging the amount, happy he hadn’t been screwed over. 

 

That accountant job had paid well, had created another useful deposit for the Padalecki retirement fund. However, he remembered that Dan had said they were meeting at Eddies, so why was the money being dropped here, and why was Dan so quiet? He didn’t say a word, just put his head to one side, watching the emotions flitting over Dan’s face. Dan was, near as damn it, the closest thing Jared had to a friend in this business, had taken him in three years ago, put a roof over his head, pushed him to get some regular clients, even passed over some agency work if there was stuff Jared could do. 

 

Like last night, that accountant from Dallas; that had been an agency job, room all set up, surveillance sending him to the bar, an easy 10k in his pocket, funded by lawyers with more money than sense. He didn’t ask questions, just did his job; unfortunately he knew a little more about this particular job than he had wanted, overhearing shit at the agency that meant little, now knowing that somehow Alistair was involved. Alistair, the fucker, the man with his hands on the purse strings, the man who fairly much ran Dan’s life now. 

 

Jared had watched the Dan he knew disappear before his eyes as he became more and more embroiled in Alistair’s little games. Watched as the confident man, who had been strengthened by his connection to the organised prostitution that the agency offered, lose that confidence in an anxiety of worry and fear.

 

He waited expectantly, seeing dark shadows under worried eyes, Dan’s mouth set in a straight line, his paranoia about the agency had increased steadily over the last few months, ever since Alistair Young had arrived on the scene, all pressed suits and slick hair. Dan was convinced everything around him was bugged and some of that paranoia was starting to rub off on Jared, leaving him feeling, not for the first time, that a change in scene may be good thing at the moment. The vibes he got from Alistair were as wrong as those he had got from his client an hour ago, just before self same client decided to try and throw his weight around. Jared had dealt with the client, leaving him reeling on the floor clutching his balls, and lifting the contents of his wallet. It didn’t matter that Alistair had recommended the client to Jared; no one fucking touched Jared without permission. He knew there would be a backlash, knew Dan would be involved, imagined the very fact that Dan was here, sitting on his sofa, meant that he had a message for Jared.

 

“Dan” he prompted, reaching for a T and pulling it over wet hair, the material tight on his damp back, pushing the envelope of money into a drawer, awareness prickling at the back of his neck.

 

“It didn’t go down well Jared” Dan started, glancing over his shoulder quickly, like someone was going to leap through Jared’s door at any moment. It made Jared angry that the self assured man that Dan had been had vanished before him. “Alistair… isn’t happy about what went down”

 

“Happy enough with the accountant though, yeah?” Jared pointed out derisively, knowing full well that gave him enough on the plus side to weather any crap pushed at him for loser guy’s swollen junk.

 

“Let’s just say, you are quits on work, if you want any more you need to step back on beating up clients”, Dan delivered the warning with a full complement of menace, belied by the twist of his mouth as if the words tasted bad. Jared nodded, passing his understanding of Dan’s distress at the warning he was delivering with a blink of his eye and a wave of his hand. “Consider yourself warned,” Dan added clearly, nodding and passing over another envelope, his eyes filled with a sudden sadness. 

 

As Jared reached for the white square that Dan held out, he was startled as Dan grasped his hand, squeezing it tight, and pulling him in for to whisper in his ear, “I know these people. My family knows them. Stay safe”, and with that he turned and left the apartment, the door closing behind him with a frightening finality.

 

Jared waited a few minutes, half praying Dan would come back, just to explain what the fuck was going on, and half praying he would never see the guy again. Dan was so tied into the agency, so much their man, had lost his sense of self in conspiracies and Alistair so deeply, that he couldn’t see a way out. Jared did the odd job for the agency, but enough was enough, no more, no more fucking sob jobs from Alistair, if it wasn’t for the money…

 

He gripped hard at the paper in his hand, reluctant to open the envelope, remembering the expression on Dan’s face as he handed it over, scared, lost, alone. He stopped in his kitchen, running a hand over smooth granite, and pouring himself a coffee. He was proud that a dead end kid from a dead end town could afford to rent this place, with its granite surfaces, and it’s marble bathrooms. He had enough money put away to buy this place twice over, but being tied down; that wasn’t Jared, it was enough to send shivers down his spine that he had been here three years now. Time to move on, see if maybe Dan would come with him, get away from here and all the shit that was going down, get back to simple fucking for money.

 

He slid a finger along the envelope pushing it open, emptying the contents on to the counter, a credit card, a memory stick and a set of keys, along with a handwritten note. Jared read it briefly, a contact name, a number and an address, a few sentences twisting across the paper.

 

...what is on the stick Jared is enough to give you security...

 

...the house is a safe house, I wont say anymore, just know if it is going wrong you will be welcome there...

 

What the fuck Dan. 

 

What the fuck

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Somehow Jensen got dressed, replacing sweats with jeans and pulling on a shirt, splashing cold water on his face and grabbing a jacket and keys. Chris was waiting in the car, needed the air, needed to get out of Jensen’s space, and Jensen didn’t question him. He counted himself lucky that Chris had held his temper and not battered Jensen into the floor.

 

He couldn’t believe what was happening, it was surreal, like it wasn’t his life, like any minute he was going to wake up from this nightmare and it would all be back to normal. When he slid into the car next to a tense Chris he swallowed any words he could have said, instead focusing on what Chris had told him, that they needed to gather their resources and see what they could do to save this situation. Chris suggested they go to his office downtown, where most of the meetings had been so far. Tense meetings with lawyers acting on behalf of April and this Alistair she was with now. Jensen couldn’t go for the lawyer time, the money for it certainly not something he had access too, it was a kind of twisted luck that his best friend, Connor’s godfather, was a lawyer. 

 

It gave him enough strength to do what he felt best, to fight for a father’s right to get custody of his child, to keep Alistair away from being step dad to Connor. Alistair seemed to have unlimited funds to fight and Jensen just watched as his wife became more and more dependent, more and more embroiled in what Alistair wanted. It was almost as if, every time Jensen moved a step forward, every time he scored a win, there was Alistair with a counter offer, another problem, another barrier, him and his clever lawyers. Alistair was determined that April would get her son and that they would leave Texas, go to New York where Alistair came from.

 

They settled into Chris’s office, coffee keeping them bright eyed, and they started. Started from page one, from day one, somehow Chris would rescue something, some kind of visitation rights. 

 

Something.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Dan had almost reached his car when he heard the voice. Just his name, nothing more, just enough to get him to turn around. When he saw hard eyes, cold grey eyes, he knew.

 

Knew they had found out what he had been doing, knew that he had evidence against them, hard facts, a money trail. 

 

So much for the safe house, he though, as the first bullet struck high on his shoulder, the second to his knee, so much for safety. Eyes above him narrowed as the barrel of the gun centred on his heart, the assassin said nothing as he squeezed the trigger.

 

It was telling that Dan’s last conscious thoughts were for Jared

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Jared got dressed as much as he needed too, in loose hipped jeans and a short T, for his next appointment. One of his regulars, just a quick hard fuck, and three hundred more in his pocket, no waiting around, no emotions, just release. It was one of his easier clients, paid well, a good way to blot out the crap that Dan was forcing down his throat. Fucking safe houses and codes, and encrypted data, he wasn’t a spy or a fed, he was a fuck for hire, and that was all he needed to be.

 

He closed his apartment, setting codes, and taking the stairs down the four flights to the underground parking, getting into his truck and reversing out of his space, balked by another car that was stopped behind him. Impatient he looked ahead to see what was causing the hold up. Flashing blue lights. Shit. He checked the time; he was going to be so late if they didn’t get a move on. They moved up slowly, in procession, passing the ambulance, paramedics standing silent around a bundled figure on the ground, Jared looking curiously out to the gathered men, his eyes inexorably drawn to the scene.

 

To a jacket laid across a still form, blood spreading under, an arm laid at an angle. Something iced over in Jared, he recognised the watch, the jacket. Dan. 

 

Dan’s blood spread across the floor of his garage, Dan lying dead on the ground, people standing round bemoaning a drive by shooting. 

 

Jared closed down another layer, another door in his head, and he drove, drove past the scene, drove to his appointment, focusing his head on one thing and one thing only. The job.

 

This wasn’t going to touch him.

 

It meant nothing.

 

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

Jared's client bore the brunt of his irritation. 

 

Irritation at his life being disrupted, at being late, at having a dead guy in his parking garage. He held the guys hands tighter, dug harder into white skin, forced himself more, and at first the guy struggled, twisting and pushing back, his cock hard and dripping between his legs, almost incoherent with lust as Jared fucked him over the back of his sofa. Jared knew his job, knew it well, knew that his own loss of control was probably the biggest turn on this guy would ever have. His client tried to move his hands, tried to reach for himself, finish himself off. There was no fucking way Jared was going to let him do that, growling a warning and pushing captured hands higher, feeling the muscles stretch in pain and hearing his name on an exhausted pain filled breath, Jared, Jared, Jared…

 

Thrust after thrust he pushed his way in, his own climax elusive, he needed to feel this guys enjoyment in the pain, needed to hear the words, needed to hear his begging for release, begging to be allowed to touch himself.

 

”Do you want me to hurt you” he growled low in his throat, his grip tightening, hearing sobs in the guys pleas, please, fucking do it. It was what this particular client paid for, to be forced, to be taken, to have no choice… It was the pain, the domination, having nothing he could do, that sent his client over the edge, painting his sofa in ribbons of come, his body limp and exhausted against the expensive leather. Jared wasn’t finished, wasn’t even sure what was going to get him off, orgasm close, but still not close enough. His client wasn’t stupid, had had Jared enough times to know what pushed him, acknowledgment of his control; he could play a character as much as Jared could do.

 

“Don’t hurt me” he whimpered on cue, Jared, Jared… it was enough to finish Jared, enough to come into the condom, his release desperately unsatisfying and kind of low in his stomach, the familiar buzz missing. Irritated and angry he released the client’s hands and holding the condom, pulled himself out, it was almost as if… in humiliating the client... as he had been paid to do… he had suddenly lost the high of release, the power of just fucking someone raw. He pushed the client away, again part of the job, and crossed to the dresser, pulling up jeans from where they had sat on his thighs and picking up the cash laid there ready.

 

Neither said a word, Jared wouldn’t look the client in the face, the client wanted anonymous, Jared could do anonymous, he wanted nothing said, nothing.

 

He let himself out, taking the stairs, his boots hard against the marble staircase, the noise echoing about him. The doorman didn’t even look up from his discussion with the building's security guard; Jared was an expected, if not entirely welcome visitor, every Thursday at this time. Out in the air he paused, not for the first time this week wishing he hadn’t given up smoking, remembering the relaxation of his addiction, the only one he would allow himself to have. He was back at his own apartment in minutes, thankful that the cops and ambulances had moved on, avoiding looking at where Dan’s body had laid. His answering machine was flashing, regular as clockwork Jared knew that the same client he had just been with was re-booking for next week. He crossed to the fridge pulling out a bottle, rolling his shoulders and allowing himself ten before he showered again.

 

“Jared” a soft voice, a low voice, from the same damn sofa that had held Dan’s warm, alive form, only two hours before. Jared turned. This was getting really fucking annoying, people letting themselves into his apartment.

 

”Alistair” he acknowledged, leaning against the door frame as casually as he could.

 

“I’ll make this quick” he said, standing and straightening his shirt.

 

“Appreciated” Jared said, deceptively calm.

 

“Always with the smart mouth Jared” the older man was equally restrained, “you need to leave” he finished simply, “leave the city, get away from Texas, take your trade elsewhere”

 

”And the reason why I would leave regular well paying clients is?”

 

“The accountant will be looking for you”.

 

“He hardly moves in the same circles”, Jared offered carefully, knowing he was right. What could a straight A accountant from Dallas have in common with a two thousand dollar a fuck hooker, and where would their paths be likely to meet again?

 

“If he finds you, it will lead back to me. I wont have that. You will leave” there was an unspoken threat in Alistair’s voice. Jared tilted his head to one side. He had a good six inches on this guy, along with ten years of youth and an awful lot of muscle; physically Alistair’s threatening attitude was of little consequence.

 

“I’m not seeing the incentive here” Jared poked and prodded, wishing Alistair would just get to the point.

 

“Do you think anyone would miss you Jared… if you just happened to disappear? Would anyone put flowers on a hooker’s grave?”

 

“I see. So we’re talking leave or die then”. Jared said it so matter of factly. It was nothing new, he had been threatened before. He just didn’t have it in him to feel at all worried, apart from the dying a horrible death thing, which would certainly not be a good experience. Shivers ran down his spine as he remembered Dan on the ground, on a bed of blood and concrete, his jacket laid over his face as if someone had decided that the dead needed that respect. It wasn’t in Jared’s life plan to die. It was however, in his life plan to fuck, get paid, save, and then retire, preferably somewhere warm with plenty of hot ass to tap.

 

“If that is the way you read it”, Alistair cast a glance around the room, his eyes passing over the drawers in the desk, “Dan was here this morning, you have your money, the transaction is complete” he finished, looking back at Jared, his eyes narrowed. He had listened to the tape of the Dan/Jared conversation from this morning, and whilst Dan had had information that would potentially screw him sideways, it was obvious he hadn’t trusted the information to the dick for hire in front of him. So, with Jared gone, and Dan dead, the whole April/Connor situation was gonna run a lot smoother.

 

It meant he didn’t need to hurt Jensen or that idiot of a lawyer he called a friend, not just yet, not until he had both April and Connor under his control. He wasn’t willing to share Connor, his son now, the boy who would be his to groom, to carry on his business. It was just a shame Jensen was part of the package.

 

Jared watched the play of emotions across Alistair’s face, the victory, the ease with which he threw out these threats, and he wondered, not for the first time, just how far this man’s empire of control spread.

 

“So we have an agreement? You and your little business...” he spat the last word out as if it tasted bad in his mouth, “...you’ll be gone by tomorrow”.

 

Jared just shrugged, at the moment he wasn’t worried either way, this man in front of him didn’t really scare him, it was only his own self-preservation that pushed him to thinking maybe a new start was just what he needed. 

 

“You’ll be gone by tomorrow”, Alistair repeated softly, “or I have people that will make you gone. Do we understand each other?” Inwardly Jared sighed at the the theatrics, he didn’t really know why he was stood here facing off with this wannabe gangster, he was gone anyway, well away from here… and from Dan.

 

Alistair didn’t give him time to respond, simply left, not closing the door behind him, which to Jared was possibly the most irritating thing about this whole pointless exercise in threatening him. He pushed the door shut and leaned back on it, looking round at custom furniture and his limited possessions, a quiet sadness built inside him. He had kind of liked this apartment.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The meeting with the lawyers didn’t go well. Chris tried every tact, every in, but at the end of the day he was right, Jensen no longer had the upper hand, the moral high ground, and it was him that had to make compromises. He was lucky to come away with two weeks in the summer and every word, every accusation thrown at him cut him so deep. April sat there. She wouldn’t look him in the face, wouldn’t acknowledge him here. Jensen knew it wasn’t because she hated him for what he had done, how could she, her of the 'different men every weekend' approach to life. No. He imagined it was that she knew he had been set up, knew Alistair had played dirty, and for the first time maybe she felt a tiny bit of remorse. It was never up for discussion that Jensen was a good father, jeez, for the first four years of Connors’s life it was Jensen that had been both mom and dad. He wished she would look up, so he could plead with her, get her to back off, but she wouldn’t, just sitting like a mouse at Alistair’s side.

 

What pushed Jensen over the edge though, was the unspoken threat. As Alistair leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes satisfied, his posture easy, Jensen knew.

 

You’ll never have him now.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Jared settled into his room, comfortably full of steak and potato, an expensive chardonnay at his side, a gentle buzz in his head. His laptop hummed quietly at his side and he held the memory stick, turning it over in his hand, wondering what was on it, curiosity pulling him to think about opening the folder on his desktop. He had left the city behind, and curiosly for him he hadn’t left Texas but instead had stopped at Dallas, his truck almost driving itself to the valet parking, doorman guarding, hotel just outside this new city. What pushed him to stop he couldn’t understand, something niggled inside him, somehow he felt emasculated by the whole bowing down to Alistair business and part of him, albeit a small and easily pushed back part, wanted to somehow defy the older man and stay where he was with his nice steady business and his comfortable apartment. He didn’t like being pushed around, didn’t scare easily, but this time… small time gangster or not... Jared really did feel… angry… disappointed in himself… and it didn’t sit comfortably.

 

When he was driving his mind had tried to empty, but god dammit Dan was in there, Dan and his hopeless enthusiasm for his agency, for wanting to keep Jared safe, Dan who had wormed his way past Jared’s shields.

 

He had remembered the one night that had defined their relationship, him just back from a job, kiss bitten and rough, smelling of hard sex, Dan just leaving for a job, all spit clean and smelling so good, passing in the corridor. What drove him to do it he didn’t know, but he put it down was a thank you for looking out for him. He pushed Dan back against the wall, his eyes dark, Dan surprised, twisting his hip, a leg pushing Dans apart, and his hands curling into Dan’s shirt. It was a rough kiss, short, deep; it was stay safe, and thank you and hello and goodbye all rolled into one. It would never happen again, but it was enough to Dan, something he never thought he would have. Dan had left, a smile on his face, Jared had stayed, the thank you tingling on his lips. The memory of that one kiss had stayed with Jared, it was clean and fresh and normal and it was something he knew he would never have again. Those images were with him in his truck as he drove, and a strange twist in his chest at the thought of that singular brightness in his life dead on the ground, was enough to stop him at Dallas.

 

And now? Now he had the memory stick, the address, the key, the card, and he owed it to Dan to at least look.

 

The folder held a few .avi’s, a word document, and two excel spreadsheets. He clicked his way to the first avi, and started it running, recognising the room as a room he had used before on Alistair's clock. It was obviously a room all set up with sound and vision that he used for his blackmailing activities. He watched as a young girl, no older than fifteen was dragged into the room.

 

...no older than she would be now…

 

Brought into the room scared and alone, leaving as a rape victim, scarred and used and helpless against the men in the room, all captured on this single recording, her screams and pleas as clear as if he was in the next room. The recording finished. Jared stood abruptly, he had known Alistair was running some heavy shit, blackmail, prostitution, but this, this was… that could have been… that girl could have been… His dinner churned in his stomach, controlled breathing stopping the nausea.

 

That girl, no more than fifteen, it could have been his sister, wherever she was.

 

It could have been Megan.


	3. Chapter 3

Jensen didn’t know what to do. Whether to laugh or cry as he watched his son climbing the frame in front of him, hanging upside down and swinging back and forth without a care in the world. He hadn’t a clue how he was going to tell Connor what had happened, how his dad had let him down. The agreement they reached, in the meeting where April wouldn’t meet his eyes, was harsh. Two weeks in the Summer, alternate Christmases, not much else, the father who had screwed around had lost his son to a ghost of an ex wife and her new controller, Alistair. Chris had really tried. He suggested a private detective to try and track down dirt on the seemingly legitimate businessman, do what had been done to Jensen. 

 

For a second Jensen almost agreed, forget the expense, he’d use savings… then it had hit him. What would it serve? What purpose was there in dragging Connor through this? Connor who already wet the bed, had nightmares and was unsettled and unhappy at school. Jensen had already been called in to see the teacher, April and Alistair there too, listening to the experienced woman as she threw out words like damage and psychology. For Connor’s sake he had tried to keep calm, keep the split as steady as he could, but it seemed when you put Alistair and him in the same room, things just didn’t go well.

 

Connor chose that moment to run away from the frame clambering onto his lap, smelling of earth and small boy, his eyes filled with childish glee, his hands curling into Jensen’s jacket.

 

“Daddy…”, Jensen smiled, his own hands meeting round his son’s small body and hugging tight. “…can we get an ice cream?” Emotion clogged Jensen’s throat, he couldn’t say anything, couldn’t tell his son he wouldn’t be seeing him for weeks, that he was leaving his dad, going to New York with his mother. Couldn’t say that his dad had been forced to agree to stay away, all because of one night. Just one night. 

 

It was enough that he had this one last visit, just three hours, to last him the next three months. He had taken Connor for pizza, to the park, and then on to ice cream and they talked and hugged and laughed, and it was normal.

 

When April stood there, a shadow next to a smiling Alistair, she looked him in the eyes. Eyes blank of emotion, heavy lidded in a pale face. He handed his sleeping son, his life, to her, didn’t say a word, not one word.

 

Silently he left Alistair’s house, climbed into his truck and arrived back in his apartment, not really registering how he got home, his heart stopped, his breathing shallow, his whole body on autopilot.

 

Chris was there.

 

Sitting on the floor outside the door, back against the wall, waiting. He scrambled to his feet as Jensen stopped in front of him. Chris was here, why was Chris here? He felt strong hands hold him, support him, pull him close, and he tried to breathe, tried to think. He had words inside him, knew he should be saying something but inch by inch his body was letting him down.

 

What Chris saw scared him. A broken and fragile man. He took apartment keys from Jensen’s pocket and let them both in, trying to support the dead weight that was his best friend. Jensen had told him not to come with him when he handed over Connor, told Chris he wanted those last moments just for him. Chris cursed himself that he had agreed to leave him alone; he should have been there, he should at least have had Jensen’s back.

 

Carefully he eased Jensen on to the sofa, pushing him back to lay still. He moved to stand, but reflex had Jensen reaching out a hand, grabbing at his shirt and at his skin, making Chris wince. One word. “Connor” and his friend of ten years did something he had never really seen him do before. He cried, heaving heartbreaking sobs that cut to Chris’s heart, his hands rhythmically clenching and unclenching as he rocked in Chris’s hold.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Jared told himself that he didn’t make a conscious decision to make his way back to his city. He simply happened to reverse direction away from Dallas and back to San Antonio. He told himself it was because money and clients called, told himself he didn’t give a shit that Alistair had threatened him. Almost convinced himself that he wasn’t looking for payback, for being treated like a lowlife whore, or some small time crook doing Alistair's dirty work. After all wasn’t that what he was, he was a whore, paid by the fuck, and consequences be damned?

 

This was a one-time visit back to business and one time only. But that fucker, Alistair… Jared’s temper, normally hidden under layers of not caring, was starting to surface. It wasn’t until Jared had seen the video, seen Alistair’s hand in violation and rape that he felt sickened, felt real emotion for the first time in what seemed like years. Whatever Jared tried to tell himself, it still sat uncomfortable that the bastard had treated Jared as nothing more than a disposable extra. 

 

Still he kept reassuring himself that it wasn’t images of the girl on the video that drove him, that it wasn’t a need to check in on his sister that pushed him back to San’tone, back home. It literally was just where his truck was taking him. He had an itch that needed scratching. That was all it was. It had been five days without a single fuck and that was way too long. That was the real reason he was keeping his appointment with the Senators son, why he spent a very pleasurable half hour topping the arrogant ass before lifting his cash from the side. Nothing else.

 

If he happened to drive through the old neighbourhood, tinted glass hiding him from the world, if he happened to stop with a clear view of his old home, then that was just luck, not planning.

 

He didn’t see Megan as he sat there watching, working out in his head that she would be 21 now, at college, at work, maybe even married with kids. He snorted at the thought of his snot nosed kid sister settling down with a family. She had wanted to be a vet, wanted to work with animals almost as soon as she could talk, the family dogs wearing bandages and sticking plasters on more than one occasion. She had adored Jared, her older brother, the silent broody teenager that became the college geek… that became the college stud… that became the hooker. She saw it through young eyes, her beloved brother finding it easy to use his body and his lust for gratification to forge his way in the world. She hadn’t said a word when he left, only eleven at the time, her eyes filled with belief and trust that he would be back soon, grasping her mother’s hand, their mother’s hand, and waving him goodbye.

 

It had been for the best that he hadn’t gone back. He really didn’t need family anyway. He wasn’t the type that missed attending Christmas reunions, or craved July 4th barbecues; it just wasn’t in his makeup. It wasn’t. But as he sat there in the truck he made the decision to just follow up on Megan, maybe do a belated big brother check in on his little sister, maybe give her some money for… well whatever. She’d like that.

 

Decision made, and confident in that decision, he tried to ignore the nagging doubt, the subtle twinge of compassion that niggled at the edge of his thoughts. He guided his truck through rush hour traffic, the city laid before him with it’s towers and malls fighting for dominance on the skyline. Doubt stiffened his spine and he realised that really he had one more thing that he needed to do now he was here. Could he really turn his back on what he had seen, could he leave that girl….

 

He knew where to go, turning the truck away from the clean and the new, the glass and metal, and driving to the old and the worn. He knew the contacts he could speak to without making it obvious, knew how to keep his head down.

 

Stage one.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Jensen did finally sleep. Curled into the corner of the sofa, a teddy, Connor’s teddy, clutched in his hands. His face pale and drawn. Chris would stay. He had stayed so far, stayed by his friends side through April’s affairs, Connor’s birth, the late nights, the sleeplessness.

 

Sighing Chris stood and crossed to the kitchen.

 

How did it all go so horribly wrong, how did his friend do something so stupid, how could he go from confident and sure to a shell in the space of days? 

 

Alistair.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

She was ready. It was her job to be ready. Tonight it was someone willing to pay an awful lot of money for her, and her alone. She cleaned herself up, properly; inside and out, using the shower gel she had lifted from the hotel last night. She used makeup to hide some of the bruises, just in case he didn’t want her to look used, but knew where to rub to get rid of it if he wanted to see bruises tonight. The hotel room she had been given, ground floor corner suite, it’s own door, meant she didn’t need to move through the lobby. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what she was, other people knew what she was, other guests, but tonight she had tried. Her clothes clean, respectable, Alistair didn’t like tacky whores on his payroll, gave them a clothing allowance, provided shelter and food. It was a good and protected existence. 

 

She might be sixteen but she could act a woman as well as the rest of them now, and tonight was her first solo appointment. She had nerves shimmering and shaking in her spine, but she was damn well going to prove she could do this. She knocked on the door, the dark of the night blanketing her, and then the door opening, letting light spill out onto the street. She blinked steadily, pushing her hip out suggestively and wetting her lips.

 

He didn’t say a word, this giant of a man, six and half feet maybe, broad shouldered, twice her weight, his hair long and tangled about his face, his clothes expensive and black. Black trousers, black T, black button down, clean-shaven, hazel eyes hooded and almost accusing as she stood inside the now shut door.

 

“Name” he ground out, his voice strident and firm in the still quiet room. She half smiled, remembering her lines.

 

“What do you want it to be?” she asked, pausing for a beat as a shadow passed across the man’s face.

 

“Name” he repeated dangerously low. She blinked, wide eyed; Caitlin hadn’t covered this in her….

 

“Ali” she said without thinking, then cursing herself inside for spilling her real name, a name she had been told to forget.

 

The tall man loomed large, his face twisted in a grimace as he looked at half hidden bruises and her thin frame. He had made the choice. He knew what he was doing. She had had no choice. She was merely someone to be used, a hole to fuck, and a means to make money, another step on the ladder for Alistair. 

 

He groaned inwardly, what the fuck was he thinking, that he could do this without anyone noticing? He fingered the knife he held in his left hand, hidden from her. He could make this end for her really quickly, make the strange ache inside him go away with the single cut of the knife. The knife he held only as in case of possible protectors she could have brought with her. He stared at her, watching her attitude, the pretence of bravado, disappear in front of his eyes as she was being stared down.

 

“Jared” he said finally, twisting and dropping the knife to the bed, grimacing at the sudden fear in the small child as she backed to the door, hands raised in defence.

 

…if he actually did this…

 

If he actually got her away to Dan’s safe house address, what was he opening himself up to? It wouldn’t go unnoticed, he knew how it worked. For the first time ever his walls would be lowered and it was a single moment in time that he had to make the decision. Lifting a jacket from the bed he tossed it to the girl, she needed to cover skin. She slipped it on, fright in her leaving no room for the capacity to decide for herself. It swamped her, falling to her knees, violet bruised eyes looking up at him with a terrified expression.

 

First her….the girl from the video. It wasn’t Megan… but it could have been. That was enough for now. 

 

So he takes her to the address, job done, conscience salved… and then to complete the circle?

 

Then the accountant. 

 

Jared never even saw the blow that caught him from behind, nor heard the screams of the girl with him as she was bundled into the car.

 

He didn't hear her final death sighs as blood began to pool around her, he only woke to blackness and a terror. 

 

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

 

“You’re a whore with no fucking morals” Alistair spat, digging his fingers deep into the gaping wound in Jared’s shoulder, blood spilling out over tanned hands, carving a river of wet red hate down Jared’s arm and across his chest. He tried to say nothing , didn’t want to give Alistair the satisfaction, but agony forced a deep inrush of air as his lungs tried to inflate. The other hands holding him down, evil snarled twisted smiles, doing Alistair’s work. “What gives you the fucking right to take my goods, my possessions and try and screw with her head?” he twisted his fingers harder, temper high in him, until blackness started to force it’s way into Jared’s head, and he was fighting unconsciousness.

 

He looked over one last time at the small girl's broken body, the blood a carpet under her, limbs twisted unnaturally, he had caused this… it was him… all him. He closed his eyes, waiting for the final bullet but juts thrown to one side, the knife wound in his side deep and decisive.

 

Alistair stood, the knife hot in his hands, his heart pounding in his chest, blood rushing through his body hot and hard. Two gone, well one dead, the girl, and one dying. Carefully he gestured for his people to leave, pulling the door behind him, no quick end for the whore. No quick end.

 

Really only the accountant left now. 

 

On the edge of death Jared fought, his own anger pulling him back. He had seen eyes watching in this back way to the docks. Watching from the dark, someone who could see what he was, see what was happening, some person with no home, a child of the dark.

 

He heard the shuffle of feet, the murmuring, the sigh.

 

”Help” he tried to say, “help me”

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Jensen paced. The message on his machine was disturbing, frightening, and he didn’t know what to do first. He pressed play again, listening to the tired voice, the edge of urgency that cut through exhausted words.

 

“It’s me… Connor… you need to come get him” and there it ended, April’s voice cut suddenly, an echo in Jensen’s head. Get Connor. Come get Connor.

 

He didn’t know what to do, he contacted Chris, please, what do I do? Now he paced, waiting for Chris to arrive, waiting for someone to tell him what to do, because he sure as hell couldn’t formulate anything in his head. He just wanted to go.

 

The knock sounded heavy and loud in his silent apartment and he flung the door open, Alistair, standing still, flanked by his usual heavy muscle.

 

“Ackles” he said softly, his voice questioning, his hands in his pockets. He looked every inch the smooth businessman and Jensen felt a shiver of ice down his spine at the casual way he stood on the threshold of Jensen's home.

 

“Connor?” he asked, a note of panic in his voice. 

 

Alistair chuckled, the noise out of place, wrong. “My son is fine”

 

“My - ” Jensen began to argue, what the hell was…

 

“… and that is the way Connor will stay as long as you do what I say”. He finished, talking over Jensen's defence. The ice in Jensen’s spine curled and traveled into the rest of his body as he looked into the eyes of death, looked at the blood that tinged Alistair’s white shirt. Anguish stole his breath; was Connor alive, April, what was happening? The gun in Alistair’s hand, gesturing Jensen back in the room, forced him to write the note, take the tablets, the ultimatum, Connor or you, take them, all of them, and no more words as his head grew heavy, his last conscious thoughts for Connor. He had no choice, his son’s life was in his hands, and no other choice was possible…

 

Alistair left, his nose wrinkling in distaste at the smell of sick, the unconscious man. He may never be able to have children himself, but with the father out of the way and the mother in his control, he had a son. Connor. No loose ends.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Chris couldn’t sit still, his energy sparking from him, nurses avoiding him, thunder about him like a cloak. He snapped and shouted, ordered and harried, willed his friend to live. They pumped Jensen's stomach, dosed him with meds to counteract the damage, pulled him back from coding, watched and waited, made notes on sheets of paper, and every moment Chris was there.

 

No one believed him, they saw the note, they said that, this Jensen Ackles, had lost too much; his wife, his son… too much… and this was how he had dealt with it, taking his own life. People did that, it was one way of dealing with pain that was eating them inside.

 

”No, you don’t get it, he wouldn’t”, visions of getting to the door, knocking, the door pushing in, smelling the sick, seeing his friend unconscious, the pills, the note on the floor, blood in his mouth, his eyes wide and staring, “he wouldn’t do that to Connor, don’t you see?”

 

Chris stopped at the end of the bed. Jensen had colour in his face, his freckles not as stark against white skin, and today he was conscious, not on drips, lucid and avoiding Chris’s eyes. Chris waited until the room was empty of doctors ordering, nurses checking and interns hovering, and then he slumped in the chair next to the bed. He wanted to ask why, and as Jensen turned his head to face Chris, tears in his green eyes, he couldn’t formulate the words, just reached a hand to grasp at his friends arm. Jensen closed his eyes, grief inside him, that he had no choice, at the end of a gun, with his son’s life in balance, “For Connor” he said, his voice gruff from the tubes, his lungs bruised, two ribs broken from resuscitation.

 

“Alistair” Chris began, “why would he want you dead, he had Connor” 

 

“He said…” Jensen coughed, his hands curling into clinic white sheets, his chest on fire, “no… no loose ends”

 

A single burst of hate flooded Chris, and he resolutely pushed it back, today wasn’t about finding, or revenge or even murder, despite how much he wanted too, today was about Jensen healing. He sat back in the chair as exhaustion claimed Jensen, his eyes unfocused before lashes fluttered closed and his breathing settled and evened out. 

 

Chris was not moving. 

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Jared gasped a silent scream as the fire in his side moved and he was lifted, the horizon tilting at a crazy angle and the gurney carrying him bumping as it travelled over the detritus of the homeless. He slipped in and out of consciousness, a needle in his arm, numbers, figures thrown back and forth, a mask over his face, people shouting. They needed to go back for her, he was sure they could do something for her. If she was dead… if she was dead… he should have left her, should have known she was being watched, should have known not to trust his contact… after all they were all criminals of one sort or another.

 

“Gently” a voice spoke above him and he blinked, telling them what he felt, what he thought, in his head, what left his mouth was a moan, a groan of pain, “I’m losing him” the same voice, smooth and soft even as he started to pull away, needing to sleep, desperate to lose the blaze of pain inside him, and then suddenly… blessed relief, numb.

 

There was no one in the hospital for Jared.

 

He didn’t give his name, he was aware of the need to hide, he didn’t give her name, he didn’t know it, he didn’t know her, he didn’t see his attacker, or hers, yes he was a prostitute, yes, it was probably a back alley trick gone wrong. 

 

Can I go now? 

 

I’m sorry, you need to leave him, and he’s only just regained consciousness….

 

Jared was conscious again on day three, the pain in every muscle, every tendon, the taste of blood in his mouth, it was a stark reminder of survival, and it was sweet. Can you tell me your name? He shook his head, feigning amnesia, pushing his memories back even as morphine blurred the edges. Alistair only had to check hospitals for a male, of his height, his characteristics, why wasn’t he here to finish the job?

 

Survival was prime.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Jensen smiled at the photo absently as he passed it to the man sat opposite them in the coffee shop, “Connor” he said softly

 

”We know where he is”. Chris pointed out, and the man, Steve, looked up from his IPhone where he was taking notes, somewhat confused.

 

“I find children” he started hesitatingly, “missing children. If you know where he is why did you come to me?” he looked from Chris to Jensen and back again, suddenly a bit concerned over what he was going to hear. Jensen looked, in Steve’s eyes, ill, very pale, sickly, and frightened. Chris was in charge here, he glanced down at his sketchy notes, Jensen was the father, and this didn’t make sense. He sighed, so much for uncomplicated cases. “Go on” he said, gesturing for them to speak, and he settled back into the chair, his eyes firmly fixed on Chris, who squirmed uncomfortably under this PI’s piercing and questioning blue gaze.

 

“We just want to know he’s OK” Jensen interrupted, his voice rough, “…just that he is OK”

 

“Start from the beginning”

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Jared turned the gun over in his hand, testing its weight, wincing as his ribs protested and his hand twisted at the shape he was holding. He looked up at the man who was passing it on to him, the ammunition he had bought. It didn’t feel real, none of this was real, he was a man who never resorted to violence, so why was he standing here, in the shadows of an alley passing over money for this instrument of death. He stood, testing the shape, the feel, way after the previous owner of this gun had gone, and long after dawn had started to paint a soft ethereal brush to the departing night sky. 

 

Alistair was really going to have to pay for what he had done. Jared would heal and then with careful consideration and a cold heart Jared would make sure that Alistair would pay.

 

Pushing the gun into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his spine he arranged his jacket to cover it, no sense in bringing attention to himself. Thoughtfully he shifted until he was comfortable and the pulled out the single address he had managed to dig up, partly from court records, partly from threatening bodily harm to the same contact that had led Alistair to him at the hotel.

 

Christian Kane and the name of his law firm, an address, a number, and through him? The accountant.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Steve’s reports were sketchy, Connor seemed well, April seemed well, Alistair didn’t seem to be there a lot. Their house was walled in, guarded, a lot of money rolled in and out of the gates, and security was high. Alistair was clean, ran legitimate businesses, there was nothing they could find on him; nothing at all, no evidence of where to even start looking.

 

“I want my son back” Jensen had started the meeting with a defiant tone, brooking no discussion; “we need to find something”.

 

They put their heads together, Chris focusing on the legal side, Jensen focusing on accounts and tax returns, Steve pacing, every so often throwing a suggestion in the pot. Sarah, Chris’s assistant passed in coffee, sandwiches, a few words of support, and then it happened.

 

A certain and strong voice at the door, five words. That was all. How was it that five simple words could have rocked Jensen’s world so very harshly.

 

“I’m here for Christian Kane”

 

Chris looked at Sarah who hovered at the side of the man in the doorway. She shrugged, looking up and up at the tall broad shouldered man next to her, her face filled with a like I had a choice expression. He looked familiar to Chris, and he stood out of courtesy to meet the visitor, only turning briefly to look at Jensen at the strange strangled noise his friend made in his throat. 

 

Chris watched as Jensen also stood, his friend’s face ashen, watched as Jensen’s hands curled into fists at his side. 

 

“Can I help you?” Chris asked.

 

“Jared”, Jensen spat out before the newcomer could speak, vitriol and hate twisting in cold words, “…the whore… the man who fucked Connor out of my life”.


	4. Chapter 4

A muscle twitched in Jared’s cheek but he said nothing, bracing himself for Jensen to throw himself at him, fists flying, words screaming. But nothing. The older man just stood as still as a statue, Chris raising a hand and moving subtly between them, there had to be a reason for this guy, who he recognised from the video, to be here. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

 

They faced off. Six four of antsy muscle against five ten of Jensen protection. Staring at each other, neither wanted to look away.

 

”I didn’t know he’d be here” Jared said finally, “I came to see you, to talk” he added, digging hands into pockets and leaning against the doorframe.

 

“So talk” Chris said, aware of Jensen crowding at his back, spreading his legs and standing firm. Steve took the lead from Chris, and came to stand next to him, his arms folded, a united front with a furious Jensen locked behind them. Sarah slipped back to her desk, casting a final glance behind her, the testosterone in that room an intense mix of distrust and anger.

 

“I don’t know where to start” Jared said slowly, wondering if he was going to be allowed fully into the room at any point. Amused at the iciness of his reception as it’s intent rolled off him like water of a ducks back.

 

“Skip to the end where you leave and we don’t talk” Jensen spat out from behind them; Jared just raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

 

“I’ve got stuff to pass over to you. You and your team” the last he said derisively, his tone lined with sarcasm, nodding at Jensen over Chris’s shoulder. 

 

Jensen almost growled in his throat, he needed to get physical, throw some punches. “You fucking set me up” he forced out, “you lowlife whore”.

 

Jared shrugged, whore was a label he could handle, it was after all true. The setting up part, well he was part of that, yeah, but he did have one tiny thing to say in his defence, “you didn’t have to, I may have offered, but you coulda said no”. Jared deliberately injected his voice with his slow Texas vowels. At that Jensen did push forward, his hands rough against Chris’s back, almost tasting the revenge at the end of his fists. 

 

Chris turned suddenly on Jensen, “whatever he has to say, let him say it J and then he can go, we can’t be seen to - ”

 

“Fuck that” Jensen shouted, hate sparking from green eyes, weeks of anger and distress curling inside of him and bursting out in a single snarled expletive.

 

Jared just stood, watching the fire in those eyes, those green eyes, gorgeous beautiful snapping fire and jade splintered eyes. He remembered that night in crystal clarity, a single bright night in amongst so many average ones. He remembered the taste of blood on Jensen’s lip, remembered the sweet taste of surrender as that beautiful man submitted to him, begged for him, Jared, Jared, Jared… He filtered out the heated discussion in the room and lost himself in his head for a few moments, something he was a master at, until Chris was there, right in front of him, questions in his face, Jensen pacing the small room behind him.

 

”And?” Chris asked brusque and sudden.

 

Jared pulled his hands out of his pockets, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a memory stick. Chris reached for it and Jared pulled it back out of his reach, his face hard and his purpose clear. “I know what is on there and I want you to know I have copies of it all, so whatever shit you think you might pull on me, then think again”, Chris just nodded, anything to just push this conversation along, aware that Jensen was fast approaching total melt down, and part of him wanting to unleash his friend for a minutes justice on the tall man in his doorway.

 

“What is on it?” Chris asked, turning it in his hand, a thoughtful look on his face. Jared just shrugged; he hadn’t looked at the rest, just at the video.

 

”Videos, two of them, and some other files”. He left it there, not willing to show his ignorance to the men standing in front of him, they would imagine he had looked, and to be fair he had opened the excel spreadsheet, took a quick look at codes and figures and closed it again. He didn’t even bother opening the word files, which in hindsight was probably stupid, as standing here now it hit him that perhaps, on those files, he himself was incriminated. Which made his next decision easier. “Look at them, I’m staying whilst you do” he finished simply; he would stay until they told him what was in the files

 

“You’re not wanted here” Jensen argued, but Chris interrupted.

 

“We’ll see what is on the stick, the you go, agreed” Jared nodded; Jensen subsided and sat at the desk, gesturing for the stick and slotting it into the side. Chris indicated Jared should come in and he did so, leaning back on the now closed door, the handle under his hand. The other two men stood behind Jensen, looking at the spreadsheet as it opened, watching Jensen scroll up and down the extensive list. There were several sheet of figures and Chris just assumed Jensen would understand them. He took a while scrolling left and right, columns in grey, figures in red, combinations of codes and entries, a meaningless mess of data.

 

“Accounts” Jensen said finally, sounding almost disappointed, “showing what, I don’t know, but give me a few days with the codes and I could probably get something from them”, he clicked one particular figure that was highlighted in red. It had a note attached that simply read income cell nine. None of it made real sense, the cell reference of cell nine, he moved to cell A9, B9, scanned across, nothing jumped out at him and he saved the file to the hard drive setting the files to print after he had done. They had the other files to scan through first. 

 

Jared listened to them talk amongst themselves, listening as they surmised and suggested about the figures in front of them. Then as they moved on to the documents, lists of names scrolled before them, at least eighty or so. Jensen sent the list to the printer and it spat the pages out at Jared who was standing next to it. The other men were talking low and curiously Jared picked up the two pages of names. His heart sank as he recognised at least four names, four people that he had trapped as surely as he had trapped Jensen, four lives ruined through Alistair’s blackmail after a night with Jared the hooker. Steve looked up and tapped Chris to indicate he should look at Jared which he did, taking in the sight of the tall man, looking uneasy and restless, the papers clenched in his fist.

 

“Probably a blackmail list” Jared said quietly, “people… men like you” he added gesturing at Jensen with the papers. Jensen wouldn’t look up, wouldn’t look at Jared, shame washing over him at the simple words the hooker had spoken, he had lost Connor, all for one night with this man, what had others lost, money, he’d give all the money he had to have Connor back with him here. Chris reassuringly squeezed his friends shoulder and Jensen returned to the files. There was another document, another list of names, mostly girls, ten women’s names, three mens names, single names, no surnames, followed by an underscore and then a code. Some coded as code 14, some as 16, a couple coded as 13. There was no match by sex or by name. Jensen scanned the list, Steve and Chris reading over his shoulder.

 

“What does this mean? Jamie underscore 14, Ryan underscore 16, Ali underscore 16-”

 

“What?” Jared interrupted urgently, “What did you just read?”

 

“Names and some kind of code” Steve said, a frown on his face as Jensen hit print.

 

Jared’s heart twisted in him as he picked up the list, Ali underscore 16, Teri underscore 13… he knew what this meant. “Ali…” he started, “… was one of Alistair’s girls”

 

“Girls? Prostitutes? Like you?” Jensen asked almost dismissive as clicked on the first video file, the view opening to a room, not dissimilar to the one in the tape from his night of humiliation, shit this wasn’t….

 

“No” Jared protested vehemently, as the video played and he heard the same screams that followed him everywhere, “…her, Ali, she was… I went… shit” he stopped, even as the pleas on the video stopped, he knew why, and the three men looked white as they watched the unfolding video, Jensen finally raising stricken eyes to where Jared was standing.

 

“Jared?” he said, his voice shaky, almost as if he couldn’t form the right words, “were you… did you have anything to do with - ”

 

“God, no” Jared defended himself, he may not be worth shit in Jensen’s eyes but he was damned if he was going to let the man think he had anything to do with…. “She was 16, just 16, her name was Ali” he blurted out, bile climbed in his throat and he breathed steadily trying to will himself not to be sick, his hand on the door handle twisting it unconsciously, a need to run clenching inside him.

 

“Ali_16” Chris repeated, horror in his voice, “Teri_13, Jamie_14… these are… kids?”

 

“Kids that Alistair has… that he uses?” Jensen couldn’t believe what he was seeing on the screen, what Jared was saying. Alistair had his son….

 

Jared struggled, as the screams started on the screen again, his head spinning as the sickness rose, he remembered this bit, as vivid as day, colours bright, the angle of the camera, the moment as… he bolted, the door swinging shut behind him, stumbling to the toilets. Losing his meagre lunch to the porcelain, tears of burning self hatred in his eyes. He slumped to the floor, head in his hands, he was part of this, he had been part of this…

 

I didn’t know, how could I know?

 

You knew, you damn well knew, he shouted back in his head at the faint miserable defence, fucking untouchable Jared, you knew…

 

I knew… I knew and I did nothing…

 

He flinched as the sound of the cubicle door as it missed his head by inches and Chris stood there a face of thunder, his words started with a what the fuck and ended with a shit Jared.

 

Jared just took whatever Chris was shouting down at him, let it wash over him, deserving every word until he felt a hand grasping him pulling him to his feet, guiding him to the washbasins. Wash up, sort yourself out, get back to the office, I trust you to come back to the office…

 

Jared looked up, meeting piercing blue eyes in the mirror, seeing a compassion in them, not much but enough to think maybe Chris could see past the whore to the man underneath. He nodded.

 

“I’ll be there”, he said simply and Chris blinked steadily, understanding what Jared was saying, that he wouldn’t be running.

 

 

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

 

When Chris returned to the office he found Steve sorting through the files, creating lists, his fingers flying over the keyboard, losing himself in the monotony of matching names to missing children posts, his muttering growing increasingly more and more incoherent as the list grew. Jensen was sitting next to him, his head in his hands and the account files laid out on the desk, his forehead creased in concentration and just for a few minutes he watched.

 

”A word?” Chris asked gently indicating the side office, Jensen looked up, he knew that tone, knew when Chris directed it at him that he was being serious and Jensen, despite really wanting to investigate the accounts didn’t hesitate to stand.

 

“He went” Jensen wasn’t really asking, it was a purely rhetorical question; he was assuming that Jared had left now he had delivered the files.

 

“Still here” Chris answered, watching Jensen raise his eyebrows in surprise as he pulled the door shut on them. “In the bathroom attached to a toilet losing his breakfast”, he added qualifying his initial statement in case Jensen needed to know. The eyebrow raised again; Chris was always amazed at how that single move of Jensen’s face spoke so much emotion. 

 

”So we have something here yeah?” Jensen prompted, eagerness in his voice, almost tasting the high of having his son back in his home where he belonged.

 

“That isn’t…” Chris paused, leaning against the edge of an empty desk, his hands in his pockets, his eyes carefully blank, this was gonna be one hell of a difficult conversation he needed to be having with his oldest friend. “It’s the… it’s Jared, you need to somehow put the whole hooker thing in a box J”

 

Jensen’s face paled, this certainly wasn’t what he expected Chris to be saying. How could his friend ever suggest he could get past what had happened? In his eyes it didn’t matter whose fault lay where, he just couldn’t imagine sharing the same space with Jared and not losing it completely. Looking at Jared… seeing his hazel eyes, remembering the taste of him, the control, it was like looking into the eyes of his own failure, his own weakness, and he wasn’t strong enough to handle that. How could Chris think it would be easy for Jensen to…

 

“Chris, I…” he started helplessly, leaning back against the closed door, much the same as Jared had against the office door earlier, his hand around the handle, looking for reassurance that he could get out if he needed to. Chris looked at him steadily; he wouldn’t be any sort of friend if he couldn’t tell Jensen the truth, from bad hair cuts to parental advice Chris had never lied before, so why start now.

 

“J, he is a piece of this puzzle, I don’t know where he fits, but he has a fear inside of him, regrets, shock, I could see that”.

 

“Chris, how can I… you’re asking me to…” Jensen stopped, the confusion at his friend’s words, seeing regrets, how could Chris see regrets, Jared was a consummate actor, had to be in his line of work, surely Chris could see through that?

 

”J, at the end of it all, we have Connor to think about, the other kids… if he can help, if he knows anything, then we need to be draining his knowledge before we kick him out”, Chris stood, taking his hands out of his pockets, and placing them on Jensen’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “Can you at least pretend for a while? J, can you do that?” Jensen looked at his friend steadily, wondering at the mix of emotion in his chest; anger, grief, sadness, but most of all a hot biting shame and embarrassment at what he had done. People got embarrassed and they pushed through it; Jensen could do that, he could look Jared in the eyes as the better man, not beaten down by the shame that lost him his son. Jared would have to deal; Jared is the whore, I am the better man, for Connor I can do this.

 

“OK” Jensen finally conceded, lifting a hand to Chris’s arm and returning the reassurance in touch, “OK”.

 

Together they walked back into the office, Steve still filtering files, and a pale looking Jared sitting on the edge of the sofa his hands clenched between his knees, his eyes raising expectantly to the two men. He visibly winced as Jensen stopped in front of him, looking up, with a quiet look of resignation on his face. Jensen blinked steadily, green eyes, flecked with gold, lashes long and resting on high cheekbones, thoughtful, and with his lips pressed together, as if stopping words from spilling out in a destructive wave. Finally, as they stared at each other, neither giving way, Jensen held out a hand to shake. Jared took the proffered hand with no second asking, holding it firmly and rising to stand, uncurling six four of exhausted limbs to stand as straight as he could in front of his nemesis.

 

“For my son”, Jensen said finally, clearly, simply, “For Connor”.

 

Jared nodded he didn’t know much about this Connor but he hoped to god that the boy was safe and wasn’t part of this list that Steve was cross-referencing. He didn’t expect anything else from Jensen, no hand of friendship, or acceptance. He wasn’t expecting Jensen to accept any part in what had happened at the bar. Why would he need to anyway; it wasn’t Jensen’s fault he had been played, not really. So what Jensen said next shocked Jared out of his self-induced acceptance of his own guilt and position in life. “I will listen to what you have to say Jared, and I want you to know one thing. I regret that I ever went to that bar, let alone within a mile of you, but me going with you… that wasn’t your fault”. He released Jared’s hand and unconsciously curled the now free hand into his belt.

 

”OK” Jared said simply, wanting to say more, words that included sorry that was me two months ago, that isn’t me now, but he wasn’t stupid. He was man enough to know that slipping backwards to what he was could be very easy despite this strange new cloak of revenge that was wrapped around him. He felt a connection to Jensen, and not just the obvious, the electricity of attraction buzzed in his head, after all, he had had Jensen once, and god, that body, those eyes, the taste… no, this connection was deeper, the connection was twisted and snarled in the life of a small boy and the death of a girl.

 

“That night, that was all me, my own failings, and I paid, and for that one single night I lost my son”, Jensen’s tone changed, a plea in his voice, the heart of him in his eyes, “I don’t know who you know, or what you know, or even how you got hold of this stuff, but if it gets my son back then for the foreseeable future we work together” 

 

“OK” Jared said again, relief dropping through his body in waves and he slumped back down on the chair, taking the water that Chris passed to him, and greedily swallowing the icy liquid that took the taste of sick from his mouth and the burn from his throat. 

 

Steve turned to the three men, his face a curious mix of disgust and hope, his hands gripping tight to an original list scrawled with notes, “this is deeper than I can handle on my own” he started, breaking Jensen out of his thoughts.

 

”How deep?” Chris asked, taking the list from him, and casting wide eyes over forty three names, “Forty three… kids? These are all kids, kids that Alistair has?” 

 

“Some barely legal, the rest kids, yeah, there may be some here that aren’t relevant, there may be some that will never appear on the list but… there… jeez… we need to get the FBI onto this, this is way out of my league, this is some organised shit” He stood, pacing the small space he was in. Chris knew Steve was an ex fed himself, although he had no idea why Steve had left the service, only thanking the heavens that he had, and that he was here now. “We need to… pull this together… get the whole lot over to them, get their experts in on this”

 

“Are you saying this is out of our hands - ” Chris started sadly, looking at Jensen, as the enormity of what he was saying twisted inside him.

 

“NO” Jensen blurted out, “Connor, we need to get Connor and April, away from him, if he knew, if they try and…” his voice tailed off, horror building inside him, at the control.

 

“J, we need to trust that the Feds will - ”

 

“No, Chris no, if he finds out it was us, if he knew Jared had brought this to us, to me, he’ll take Connor and run”, Jensen grabbed at Chris’s arm, a bruising hold, Chris didn’t wince, didn’t know what to say. “We need to get Connor away, give me some time to get Connor away from him, then we hand it over”

 

Chris swallowed back tears as he saw his friend almost begging for time, begging for the safety and life of his son, “what can we do?” he offered quietly, we cant leave these kids…” his voice tailed off and he looked at Steve helplessly, then back at Jensen.

 

“We know where he is, we know where to find him, I’ll go”

 

“If you go then you tip our hand, the fed’s hand, then the game is up” Steve said, playing devils advocate and visibly wincing as Jensen rounded on him with anger and venom dripping from his voice.

 

“My son is not a pawn in a game” he ground out, his face tight, his words curt immediately making Steve regret his choice of words. Steve held up his hands in defense, and Chris shrugged off Jensen’s hold to stand between the two men.

 

“Twenty four hours” Chris said quietly but firmly, “we could hold off for that long, try and get Connor away from him”

 

“Chris”, Steve began, exhaustion in his voice, “you know as well as I do that the compound is closed, walled, secure, and that is the least of it”, he ran a hand through long hair, “getting anyone out is very unlikely, getting them out under the noses of guards in a secure area…”

 

Jared listened to the heated discussion, just listened. His heart twisting as he realised what he had to do, what he needed to do, to make things right, to straighten his celestial balance sheet. He needed to do more than just hand over papers and files, he needed to ask them where Connor was, assumed he was either at the house on the outskirts of Dallas if he was still in Texas, or at the place he had in New York. He knew the Texas house, mansion, compound well, knew it back to front, had done some work there for Dan a long time ago.

 

“Where is he?” Jared asked, so soft he wasn’t heard at first, repeating, “where is he, where is the boy, where is Connor?” Jensen turned away from Steve, a frown between his eyes.

 

“Dallas, outside Dallas, they came back last week for the Governor’s inauguration, they’re still there”, he turned his attention back to Steve, “so I go in, I ask to see Connor, I grab him, I run”

 

“Is that before or after the edicts of the restraining order on you kick in” Chris pointed out, “you couldn’t even get through the front gate” he added with a twist of his hand, end of subject.

 

”So we think about what we do, we don’t give up”, Jensen replied just as firmly, jamming hands in his jeans pockets, his shoulders hunching, stubborn determination in every inch of his six feet plus.

 

“I can get us in” Jared offered suddenly, standing again, feeling more involved as he stood straight, and he repeated the words again, “I can get us in, I can get us in the back way”.

 

“The back way” Chris almost snorted, Jensen ignored him, focusing instead, intently, on what the younger man had just said.

 

“You know the place, you can get me in, help me get Connor?” Chris hated that Jensen sounded so needy, so desperate, wishing there was a way he could help his friend…

 

“I did some work there, I know the place, it has it’s vulnerabilities and Alistair has one thing going against him that will give us the edge… his own arrogance”, Jared paused, suddenly nervous of his argument, what possible difference could he make really. No one said a word, and Jared rather desperately added “erm… he thinks nothing can touch him”, and then he stopped, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

 

“J” Chris began, pleading in his voice, surely Jensen wouldn’t…

 

Jensen interrupted his thoughts, “if we try nothing and Alistair suspects we have the ammunition to take him down, we can’t guarantee he wont hurt Connor or April. If Jared thinks he can get us in - ” 

 

“Jensen you can’t be thinking of doing anything this guy wants you to do, you don’t even know him.

 

Jensen turned to Chris, remembering the extreme of passion he had seen in Jared, the haughtiness and confidence that wrapped the whore in a shield of protection, the power he had in his body, in his arms as he had held Jensen, the speed that he moved… he had skills… skills and knowledge… a dangerous combination.

 

“You forget Chris, I do know him and right now I don’t see a lot of options other than what Jared is giving us. We get in, we get Connor”.

 

“Jensen, it isn’t going to be that simple” Steve cautioned, “you’ll need something more than we go in… we get Connor” 

 

“We get in, we get Connor”, Jensen repeated, “and April. We get out, lay low somewhere until Alistair is sorted. Give us twenty four hours, and if it looks like it’s going to shit, you call the feds on us yourself”

 

Chris had to say something, one final chance to change his friends mind “Jensen - ”

 

Jensen wasn’t prepared to hear anything, his mind focused, his sustained connection to the tall man with his arms folded standing in front of him, ”No, Chris, we don’t have another choice”. Jared simply nodded, Chris frowned and Steve looked back at the computer his own face as concerned as Chris’s. Jensen scanned every face; knew what Chris meant, knew he was just worried and that he doubted they could trust Jared.

 

They really had no choice.

 

They had to trust Jared.


	5. Chapter 5

It was quiet in the car, Jensen driving, eyes focused on the highway; Jared slumped down in his seat, head resting against the window. He seemed lost in thought, every so often lifting his head to throw a glance over at Jensen, before subsiding back into his slouched position, stretching his long legs in front of him as much as he could. They had decided, or rather Jared had suggested, that night was the best time to try this… this whatever it was… kidnap, extraction… and they had at least two hours to kill to dusk, let alone dark. It was Steve that suggested an hour for the two men to talk, to find out more about each other, to gain intel that might help.

 

Jensen’s idea was to walk in, take Connor and leave. That’ll work, Steve had commented, reminding the desperate father that in his experience that kind of extraction never worked. Jared suggested the back way in, told Steve his ideas, which Steve reluctantly approved, despite the ex fed in him warning them that they were really screwed if the guards were armed. 

 

“They are all armed, I’ve seen them, bullet proof vests, the whole enchilada” Jared pointed out carefully, almost reluctant to scare them off doing this; he didn’t want any chance of this plan not going ahead. He wanted his chance with Alistair face to face, none of this courtroom crap. The others didn’t have to know that his agenda was somewhat different to Jensen’s; it was enough that he was willing to take Jensen along for the ride for his son. Now he knew… knew there were others, like Ali, he was going anyway. Damn his newfound sense of honour and guilt, but he knew inside that he couldn’t abandon Connor, a child much younger than Ali and in evil hands. In essence he needed Jensen to get the damn kid out if he was going to have any chance of getting to Alistair himself, and there was no way he was going to rain destruction down on Alistair until Connor was well away.

 

Steve thought carefully, looking back at the layout he had pulled from satellite images, tapping his pen and sighing. “Jared is your best chance Jensen”, he offered finally, wishing again that it were him going, feeling the itch of inaction between his shoulders. They had had this discussion, and it was Jensen who finally convinced him he was better placed as liaison between the feds and the situation; a situation that needed to be managed carefully to ensure Jensen got to Connor first. “Get in, through here or here…” he circled the points on the image in pencil, “…get Connor, then get out, as soon as you are out… we’ll coordinate a strike from the three points of entry, you have three hours to get there, I want you out by 9pm and I want you gone, I’ll have the conversation with the feds, pass over the videos and the files. I don’t know what the cell reference means; but if Alistair is keeping kids on site they need extracting by professionals, not by you, is that clear”

 

“Get in, get Connor, get out, tell you we’re out” Jensen repeated in summary, looking back at Jared for agreement, only Jared wasn’t looking at Jensen, he was looking down at the printed lists scattered across the desk.

 

“You think you will have enough here?” Jared questioned, not for the first time wondering how the hell Steve was going to pull this one off.

 

“I cant hold this intel back for long, we need to get a judge involved, get authority for the raid, it’ll take some time, enough time, Jared, for you to get in and get out” Steve emphasised the word Jared, focused intently on Jared’s face, and Jared dropped his eyes, sensing Steve could see more than Jared wanted to reveal, as if he knew Jared wasn’t coming out again unless Alistair was dead. “Get Connor out” he repeated, “don’t risk a child’s life for the sake of heroics and revenge”, startled Jensen spun on his heel, what did Steve mean, heroics and revenge? Was Jared seeing something else coming out of this than Jensen was, they just needed Connor away, let the authorities deal with the rest.

 

“Jared?” he questioned the tall man sharply, “tell me you are not going to try to take on Alistair on your own, we just need to get my son out safely, Jared please tell me I am not doing this alone”. It was an impassioned question, thoughts flickering and racing in Jensen’s head, I’ll do this on my own, I’ll do this alone, I’ll…

 

“I will help you to get your son out alive” Jared said softly, “I will help you both get away from the compound, what happens after that… well that is my decision” Jensen paled at Jared’s words, at his honesty, at the fact he was contemplating going back in…

 

“Jared”

 

“You have your son… I have my ghosts” Jared offered with a shrug of his shoulders and determination in his fixed expression. Jensen just nodded and added his own shrug, crossing his arms across his chest, and then dropping them to his side.

 

“Tell me I can trust you, that you’ll help me get my son”, he said simply, reaching a hand to Jared and twisting his fingers into the other mans. Jared looked down at their linked hands, a heat in his face as he looked up.

 

“You can trust me to help you get Connor out”, he said as simply as he could, his hazel eyes clear and thoughtful, his face carefully blank. 

 

Jensen looked into those eyes, unconsciously tightening his grip on Jared, before dropping his fingers. “OK” he said, “OK”

 

It was at that point that Steve started making calls as the two men stood in an uncomfortable face off for trust, and it was then that Steve suggested they talk, “…learn things from Jared, learn the type of person Alistair really is Jensen, learn the entrances and the exits, and most of all, learn Jared” he said firmly, cutting away as the phone was answered on conference. Jensen listed as Steve launched into the whats whys and wheres with whoever was on the end of the phone and swallowed the fear in him until it was in a dark place inside him and grabbing his jacket he had walked from the room, aware Jared was with him, on his heels, his vanguard, one he trusted, god help him.

 

And so here they sat, less than quarter of a mile from the compound in the hills above, watching activity on the roads below, too far away to see anything properly.

 

“When it starts to get dark that is when they arrive”, Jared said, turning to face Jensen, sighing and readying himself to start the whole knowing the situation discussion.

 

“Who? The guests?” 

 

“The ones who have paid the big bucks for what Alistair has to offer”

 

”Which besides sex is, I guess, anonymity?”

 

”Anonymity, peace, value for money, services your average senators son wouldn’t be able to get outside off the streets, drugs, the usual”

 

“Rich people, people who can pay” Jensen asked rhetorically.

 

“He has rooms…” shit Jared get a grip, it was your living, you did a good job, talk it up, “…set up for different things, some of them wired, it was how he bolstered his finances, blackmail. Like with you”

 

”Only he didn’t want money, he wanted my son, with no courtroom battles, quick and easy, and I certainly fell for it” Jensen didn’t sound bitter, he sounded almost resigned.

 

“I’m good at what I do”. Jared reminded the older man, anything to take away the edge of Jensen’s guilt, “it's what got me a special room, a… friend… Dan… he sorted it for me, $2000 for a night, for doing what I did best, no strings”.

 

“You must have known…” Jensen didn’t quite know what he was trying to say; he didn’t mean to sound accusing, he just needed to know. 

 

“Known what? That he had underage… kids… there… that what he did to them… he recorded what happened… probably took away any chance of them going home, if they even had a home to go back too? No, Jensen, I didn’t know that, I’m not stupid, I could have seen if I’d really tried, but I didn’t, it was self preservation, but Ali…” he stopped, he was feeling wrong, like he couldn’t get the words out.

 

“Ali? The girl in the video?” Jensen prompted and Jared nodded closing his eyes briefly. 

 

“I got her away you know, got her as far as the station, bought her a ticket and all, cleaned her up, never even saw it coming, woke up in an alley at the docks, wet in the air, her blood on me, on her, the floor, the wall, and her eyes wide open, dead”.

 

“You tried Jared. Was it Alistair? He found you?”

 

“Yeah, I trusted the wrong person for information and I… failed Ali”. Jared’s tone was defiant, he wasn’t going to listen to Jensen talk him out of how he felt and Jensen could see that. “I won’t fail Connor”, he added. Silence. They sat there for a good five minutes, both lost in thought.

 

“Was Alistair trying to frame you for Ali’s death?” Jensen asked finally, taken aback as Jared snorted and almost laughed. He watched carefully as Jared lifted his jacket and shirt, pulling at his T and revealing a livid scar, newly healing, red and jagged on his side.

 

“No, Alistair was trying to kill me, why would he want to frame me, it’s a waste of his time, in his eyes it was probably better for it to be over quick”.

 

“You lived” Jensen said wonderingly reaching out a hand and touching the bruised flesh gently, seeing Jared wince at the contact of skin on skin. “I don’t have scars, but I tried to kill myself” Jared frowned, killing himself, when he had his son to focus on, a son he loved, that didn’t seem right, didn’t sit properly in his head. Jensen moved his hand and Jared allowed the clothes to fall down to cover the scar.

 

“Why would you try and leave your son?”

 

“To keep him safe, it was Alistair holding the pills, Alistair with the gun, Alistair with my son, threatening his life if I didn’t take my own. I didn’t have a choice Jared”.

 

“You would die for your son” Jared commented leaning forward to breath in the rarefied air around this man. A father who showed more courage in his single act than Jared was likely to show in his entire life. Unconsciously Jensen also leaned forward; the pull of attraction, even in this time of desperation and fear, pushing them together. “You lived” Jared repeated Jensen’s words back to him, his breath warm against Jensen’s lips, it was a second to lean in, to touch lips in the softest of kisses, just a touch, a breath, warm, understanding. It wasn’t out of place. For Jensen it was an affirmation of forgiveness and an understanding of his own part in their hour together back at the hotel. For Jared, it was just tender and gentle and everything sex had never been. They needed it like they needed air.

 

Neither made a move to push the kiss further, both pulling back, similar green hazel eyes locked in the unspoken language of attraction.

 

“Tell me more” Jensen said simply, more about the compound, more about Ali, more about you.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Darkness came all too soon, and with it the invisibility of a clouded sky. Jared walked confidently to the back entrance, his face a familiar one to the security that appeared every so often, and he threw thanks to the heavens that he hadn’t been announced as dead or even put on a watch list of some sort, if Alistair even had them. He exchanged pleasantries, with whore and security alike, pulling enough attention away from him that Jensen slipped past in the confusion. Jared followed him in, guiding him through empty hallways, always acutely aware of cameras. It made him smile to see how outdated they were, how badly placed; Alistair obviously felt no need for security that actually worked. He indicated each camera, each door, with a gesture of his hand, knowing where he was going, to the last inch, the private area, off limits to workers and customers alike.

 

Jensen followed, trying to look confident, filled with dread at the thought of getting back out of this maze with Connor, relaxing only slightly as Jared finally stopped at a door marked private. Jared nodded at the door and Jensen nodded back, eyes widening as Jared pulled a gun from his waistband, at his back, a small gun, Jared just grimaced at the expression, knowing Jensen would be scared for Connor, but he needed to see that the gun put them on equal footing with Alistair and his lackeys. Jensen shook his head wordlessly but Jared refused to accept the shock in Jensen’s eyes, instead pushing open the door to the inner sanctum, the gun first, and Jensen just had to follow.

 

They saw Connor first, his back to them, sitting silently on the sofa, and then April, pacing in the corridor outside the main door, talking agitatedly into a cell phone, manicured nails twisted in long bottle blonde hair. Jared placed a single finger across his lips and Jensen nodded. It seemed like they could get both, take them away, and they split, Jensen pulling Connor into his arms, a hand gently over his mouth shushing his son into silence, Connor for his part beamed a huge smile and curled small fingers in to Jensen’s neck, with a whispered Dad…

 

“April” Jared said softly when he saw Connor safe in Jensen’s hands and she turned to face him, fright in her eyes until she saw Jensen holding their son. “Come with us”. She looked to refuse, shaking her head, looking at the outstretched hand of this enormous man standing in front of her, but all Jared did was leave his hand, a small smile on his face. Something flashed in her eyes and she looked over at Jensen, remorse, sadness, hope… Jared couldn’t tell. Jensen started to back to the door, confident she would follow Jared, take his hand and let him guide her out to the night, not imagining what happened next.

 

It was over in seconds.

 

A bullet high in his thigh, and another in his chest, Jensen stumbling to the floor, holding Connor tight, April screaming, Jared shouting something, unconsciousness pulling Jensen from the room. Sudden movements, more shooting and then peace, before a banging, the front door to the apartment being pushed in against Jared’s strong back as he tried to give the people in the room, April, Jensen, Connor, time, tried to keep the guns away, his own gun hot and heavy in his hands. In disbelief he watched April fall at his feet a bullet in the neck before he had managed to shut the door on hired muscle with guns, ducking as bullets dug deep into wood. Desperate he slid a drawer unit under the handle slipping and sliding to Jensen’s side, at the whimpering Connor.

 

”Jensen” he urged, panic in his voice, relief flooding him as Jensen opened his eyes and looked directly at him, eyes glazed with pain as blood ran freely from his leg. Jared tried to help Jensen stand, aware of the heavy pushing against the door, knowing they had little time.

 

“Take Connor” Jensen demanded, his voice thready and weak. 

 

Jared shook his head “No, stand up Jensen, stand up” 

 

“Jared, I can’t…” he tried, he tried to move, the pain in radiating circles and his leg immobile.

 

“Jensen”

 

“Take Connor, get the gun and for fucks sake run” Jensen forced out, blood bubbling on his lips, Jared hesitated, willed the older man to stand, needing Jensen to take Connor away so he could finish this thing with Alistair, aware at the same time that the front door was loosening, aware he only had seconds, that he held precious life in his hands. Jensen looked up at him, the sparkle of jade dying, and an entreaty to take his son to safety. Please.

 

He had to choose, killing Alistair, or saving Connor. He had no choice to make. He left Jensen. Left Jensen coughing blood on the floor, grabbing tight to Connor and using his large body as a shield for the small boy, he ran. As the front door was pushed in splintering wood onto April's still form, he ran.

 

He ran.

 

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

The smoke was thick and white and stifled breath, Connor whimpering against his neck as on autopilot Jared reversed his steps and dived down dark corridor after corridor his eyes streaming and his throat tight. His only thought was to get Connor out. Out into the night where he knew Chris and Steve would be waiting, and if not them, then someone, FBI, a paramedic, anyone who could go back with him and get Jensen. He heard shouting behind him, the retort of guns firing wildly into the chasing smoke, the singe and burn as a bullet traveled through his arm … all the time praying it hadn’t hit Connor as they ran to escape. It had all gone to shit, they were too late, had caught the start of the raid, and now Jensen lay dying… dead… on the floor in his own blood, guns between Jared and Connor’s father.

 

He stumbled out of the smoke into the dark night, vision blurred, voices calling to him to drop the kid… let the kid go… Jared… lower your weapons… friendly… shit Connor… Jared where’s Jensen.

 

Jared lifted his head, Chris stood there, his arms outstretched, taking Connor from his shaking hands, pulling him tight against him, shielding his eyes from the carnage around them.

 

“Going back in,” Jared said, coughing, turning on his heel and starting back into the smoke, gun in his hand, but Steve moved swiftly to stand in the way.

 

“Jared,” Steve gripped the man in front of him, determination on his face.

 

”Jensen is in there… paramedic,” he shouted over the noise, the confusion, angry shouts and screams piercing the night. Steve brought his face down, shouting in his ear

 

“We don’t have containment,” he summarised quickly, seeing heat and fire in the tall man’s eyes and adding more determinedly “civilians stay outside”. Jared pushed at the hold, wincing as his arm streaked pain and cramp from the gun shot wound, and stood his ground, the grip on the gun tight and sure.

 

“Out of my way,” he bit out, not knowing the picture of grit he created, his hair close to his head in damp tendrils, his face red with exertion and his voice graveled and biting from smoke. He had singular determination in every pore; he was going back for Jensen. Steve hefted his own gun, a split second decision to follow Jared into the smoke.

 

“Let’s go,” Steve said and turned into the smoke, sending a final look at Chris and Connor, adrenalin pumping around his body lighting nerves and muscles with focus. With no hesitation Jared plunged into the smoke with him, guiding him through corridors that snaked from east to west, each corner another danger until finally they were outside the door pushed and propped open by Jensen’s dead weight.

 

Jared’s stomach turned, so much blood, everywhere, Jensen so still, unmoving, his eyes shut. The room was empty, April’s lifeless form twisted where she had fallen her eyes wide and staring, and Jensen had obviously been left for dead.

 

”Jared… is he…” Steve asked, aiming his gun into the room as cover while Jared tried desperately to feel for a pulse. Jared shook his head, a numb disbelief stopping his heart until finally he felt a faint fluttering in his throat and he looked up at Steve, a hope in his eyes that even Steve could understand. Without words, Jared started to pull Jensen up, Steve abandoning watching their backs to help; it would take two of them to drag-carry Jensen out through the maze of corridors into the air.

 

“We have him, get a paramedic on standby,” Steve spoke urgently into his head mic, stumbling at a sudden shift in weight and grimacing as he realised some of the blood on their joined hands was actually Jared’s as the other man stumbled again, his skin growing more and more grey on their difficult journey. Thank god the smoke from the smoke grenades was clearing, and the gunfire seemed further away, maybe they could actually make it out into the night, Steve could only hope.

 

Jared could feel his own body start to react to the gunshot; a shock was rippling through every nerve as he used his weight and strength to carry Jensen, and any adrenalin he was running on was draining away with every step they took toward Chris.

 

Cold night air slapped at them as smoke and noise and confusion slipped away. Paramedics were there, for Jensen and for him, and he let them take Jensen, let them fuss and pull at the seemingly dead man, then gave in, with a sigh and no regrets, let them inject into his arm, listening to statistics and medicine as it spilled into the night. Finally, with Connor in his eyesight, Chris trying to shield him still, Jared slipped into blessed unconsciousness, one question on his lips that no one could answer.

 

”Is he alive?”

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

It had been six hours, an arm wound, nothing serious, just bandaged and reassured it was a through shot and Jared was sitting in the corridor outside ICU, on a chair far too small for his sprawling frame. He couldn’t even dig out the energy to wriggle in discomfort as plastic dug into his thighs and back. They had closed off this part of the ICU, and Jared could see the armed police at the entrance, a closed determination in their stance. They were protecting Jensen, Jared and Connor. They hadn’t found Alistair, not after all the confusion and the destruction. The bastard had somehow slipped through the fingers of the FBI and it was Steve that had arranged the protection. Jared was a main witness, in Steve’s words, Jensen was a material witness and Connor… well Alistair wanted Connor.

 

Jensen was still unconscious, hadn’t regained any sort of consciousness since he was bought it. He had coded twice, so Steve said, but each time they had dragged him back stubborn as fuck, and each time Jensen slipped back into unconsciousness, machines keeping him alive, tears and holes in him being mended behind closed doors in the operating theatre.

 

“Jared,” a soft voice, Chris, with an exhausted Connor curling into his neck. Jared simply nodded, squirming under Chris’s intense gaze, not sure what to respond, it seemed Chris may have something to say. “They… they need me to sign… stuff… I’m…” He shifted Connor’s weight in his arms, sadness flooding his face. “I need to make decisions about…” he stopped, and sighed, looking down at Connor in his arms, watching as eyelids opened on the jade that was the same as Jensen’s eyes, Chris’s heart turning in his chest, they wanted him to sign off on the DNR, the do not resuscitate, him, sign off on Connor’s father, to admit defeat. He wanted to cry, wanted to scream and rail at the gods who would let this small boy’s father die in such a senseless way. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, take Connor with him, and he wondered if perhaps… he didn’t have the words to ask, and blinked steadily into Jared’s eyes, entreating him to take Connor, trusting this man with Connor. Jared twisted in the chair, bending his long legs and holding out his good arm, in a mirror to how Chris had taken Connor from him in the smoke and confusion at the compound.

 

“I’ll take Connor…” he offered softly, “…if he wants to come to me,” he added with a wondering tone in his voice, not sure he was really the one person Connor should be with. Chris shifted Connor and talked softly to him, squeezing him and then placing him to stand on the floor, all five years of Connor’s bravery in a tremulous lip and tear filled eyes. Jared smiled. Or at least he tried to smile, wondering what to say. 

 

Connor looked from Chris to Jared and back again and then in a flurry of motion climbed Jared to curl on his lap, pushing his head up under Jared’s chin, his voice soft and sleepy, “you got my daddy out,” he said, sighing a hot breath on Jared’s pulse, his trusting hands twisting into Jared’s scrubs that had replaced his torn and bloodied shirt, his breathing soon even and sleepy. 

 

He didn’t look at Chris, didn’t watch him leave to be with Jensen, to sign the papers, to maybe sign away Jensen’s life, couldn’t meet Chris’s eyes. Instead he buried his face in tousled brown hair smelling of small boy, taking away the antiseptic of the ICU, starting to take away the stain of blood and fear.

 

He closed his eyes.

 

He slept.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

“We lost him twice,” the surgeon commented, as Chris’s pen hovered over the dotted line. It wasn’t as if it was a death sentence, it was on medical advice, that Chris needed to sign the DNR. The doctors weren’t sure that even if they bought him back again that it would be Jensen they bought back. He had died twice. Twice.

 

“I cant,” Chris whispered, his eyes drawn again to the still form of his best friend wrapped in white, machines keeping him alive. “How much of a chance…” his question tailed off, he already knew what they were going to say, hearing words thrown about like miracle if he wakes, and brain damaged, and dead. The pen wavered. Chris wavered. Finally he placed the pen and the papers down, unsigned. Determined he looked into the eyes of the doctor in charge of Jensen’s case, seeing compassion there. Compassion and understanding that hardened his resolve, his determination to do the best for Connor’s father.

 

“If he codes again…” Chris started, pushing hands in jean pockets, “…I’ll sign. If he codes again.”

 

They didn’t argue, they could see Chris would not be turned, and nodding one by one they left him alone in the room with Jensen. He stood for a long time, watching the rise and fall of the ventilator, the lines on the machines, each peak a triumph, a win, until finally he was urged to leave by the nurse in charge, urged for coffee, a snack, a sleep, anything.

 

Reluctantly Chris left the room, closing the door shut behind him, walking down to the waiting area and to Connor. Jared’s head was laid back, his head resting on the wall, his breathing steady, Connor curled into him, Jared’s free arm protectively holding the young boy close. They looked peaceful this man and boy, waiting on news. Chris wished he had something good to tell them. Instead he just watched, as he had watched Jensen, taking in every line of Connor, every inch of his small boy body, knowing Jensen’s will gave guardianship to him should he survive April. When they had drawn that up April hadn’t been in the morgue and Jensen hadn’t been dying. None of this seemed real. He climbed over Jared’s long legs, a safety hazard in the small corridor, and made his way to the coffee machine. Caffeine would be good, caffeine would keep him alive. Bad choice of words.

 

He slid down the wall opposite Jared and Connor, looking at the tall man, odd thoughts flying through his head as he saw Jared’s strong arm across his godson’s back. He guessed they had checked Jared over, did anyone know he was a prostitute, did anyone check for… diseases… should Connor even be… Connor will be fine… whatever his occupation… he seemed OK… had passion in him and a spark of life that had pushed him to save Jensen, despite the start of their… relationship.

 

“Chris?” Jared’s voice was deliberately low and soft, a question in it, how is Jensen? Chris just shook his head, sighing, tears choking in his throat. Jared worried his lower lip with his teeth, a sudden sadness black on his face as he squeezed Connor, who snuffled in protest and wriggled to a better position.

 

They stared at each other in grief, neither knowing what to say, Jared overwhelmed with feelings he just wasn’t used to, Chris trying not to cry.

 

“We have a safe house…” Steve offered from the door, startling both men. Chris nodded, Jared just looked confused, his eyes darting from Chris to Steve and back again. Surely they didn’t mean him? He knew he wasn’t going to go back to the streets, but he didn’t want or need to be part of this strange life that Connor was at the centre of. “…all of you, in ten” he added and turned on his heel, talking softly into his cell, stopping to confer with the guards on the door.

 

Jared looked back at Chris, uncertainty in his eyes, fear almost.

 

Connor stirred, Jensen was dying, Chris was sitting in front of him a soft, compassionate, almost friendly look on his face.

 

Jared didn’t know what to be scared of the most.


	6. Chapter 6

Connor slid off of Jared’s lap and onto Chris’s, his eyes wide, questions on his face, questions that broke Chris’s heart.

 

”Daddy is sleeping,” Chris said softly, “he wants us to go find a bed and get some sleep, you up for that?” he tried to inject a note of enthusiasm into his voice and it seemed to work as Connor nodded and scrambled to his feet.

 

“Are we going home?” he asked quickly, rocking on his toes and bouncing a little in excitement.

 

“Not home Con, but to a house where we can get some sleep and wait for daddy to wake up.”

 

“’K,” the little boy gripped Chris’s hand tight, a wide yawn splitting his face. Chris had expected more. More questions, reluctance, where was mom, why is daddy sleeping, but Connor didn’t say a word. He frowned up at the small boy, climbing to his feet and lifting him into his arms, pulling him into a big hug, endearments falling from him as Connor shifted to sit on his hip. He hovered at the door, casting a look back at Jared, who hadn’t moved from his seat yet, legs still sprawled here and there into the hallway, a guarded expression on his face. Did Jared disapprove of the lie that Chris had just given Connor? Did he disapprove that Chris hadn’t just told Connor that his dad was very probably going to die? He waited. For Jared to move or for Jared to blurt out what he knew to Connor

 

Jared leaned forward in the chair, rubbing hands into tired eyes, seeing the questions on Chris’s face and too tired to deal. He stood, stretching his arms high, fingertips brushing the ceiling, his spine popping as he pulled high, and then relaxed to follow Chris to the door, stifling a yawn behind his hand.

 

“After you,” he gestured at the half open door and Steve who stood outside pacing, still with the cell phone at his ear

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The wound was high in Alistair’s back and he knew the bullet was still inside, pain radiating down his spine, his foot unsteady on the gas as the car wound it’s way higher and higher away from the compound, away from the chaos there, escaping to his bolt hole, only two miles to go. He could get medical help there, had paid well, and in advance, for the anonymity and the safety. The shaking in his legs was worsening and the pain was climbing his throat and into the base of his skull, an insistent tearing, stabbing pain, that sent stars to his retinas. 

 

He knew this run well, had done it often, visualised the next corner, the car speed hovering at twenty, his foot cramping, the car finally losing grip.

 

Shrubs and stones piled around the car, hiding it from the road, as it skittered to a stop at an angle against a tree. There was blood on the windscreen and Alistair was half in and half out of the car, glass cutting in fragile skin and Jared’s name a curse on his lips.

 

He couldn’t be seen from the road, he would die here, alone and in incredible pain as the bullet touch fire on his spine.

 

It was a fitting end.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

To give him his due he did try and sleep. Steve just said that Chris and Jared should choose a room, and Connor should go in with Chris. Connor was happy with that, it was like a sleepover, and him and daddy had done that before, snuggling under the same duvet on the sofa, eating chips. Chris didn’t have chips but he did have really long hair, and Connor was teasing him mercilessly before falling asleep in a heap curled untidily into quilt and sheet. 

 

Chris lasted all of ten minutes after that climbing out from under the twisted quilt and tucking it round the small boy, dropping a small kiss on his dark hair and letting himself out of the room, leaning back on the closed door for a minute, breathing deeply and closing his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with a grief so deep it took his breath and forced tears to his eyes. He needed to talk, needed to get this huge burden off of his chest and the person he would talk to, the one person that shared all of his secrets, well he was lying in hospital as near to death as he could be.

 

Quietly he made his way downstairs, nodding to the man in the bullet proof vest that stood inside the front door. The man simply nodded back, not moving, not smiling, intent on keeping this strange little family safe and Chris did feel safe, behind walls and doors, with guns protecting them. He moved into the kitchen, daylight pouring in through the window casting a bright glow about the cupboards and gleaming appliances. He stumbled into a chair, cursing at his stubbed toe when a voice rich with whisky and honey made him jump.

 

“Ok man?” A simple question. Steve. He didn’t know Steve that well; just knew his firm and used him for the missing kids cases, knew he was an expert in his field, had good results, knew he was a part time singer, but nothing else. No, that wasn’t true. Not really. Chris knew Steve had a heart of gold, a generous nature, and a smile on his face… a presence that filled a room, confident, take charge, in control.

 

”Yeah, cool” Chris replied, hopping to grab at his toe that he had stubbed and then leaning against the nearest counter top, a resigned frown on his face.

 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Steve glanced at the clock, it was two in the afternoon, he couldn’t sleep, why should he expect Chris too. “Is Connor OK?” He added the last as a picture of the small boy formed in his mind.

 

“No, I couldn’t sleep, my body clock is on hiatus, and yeah Connor is asleep,” he watched as Steve stood and crossed to the coffee pot, pouring a cup of black coffee, bypassing the cream and sugar and handing it to Chris. Chris looked up surprised, was that a guess or did Steve know he took his coffee black? 

 

“Thanks,” he offered, sipping at the fragrant brew, coughing as the hot liquid splashed at the back of his throat, and regrouping as daylight started to filter into his brain. He sat at the table opposite Steve losing himself in coffee, trying to sort his thoughts.

 

“Have you seen Jared?” Steve asked softly

 

“I heard him,” Chris nodded, “he’s pacing, I could hear him from our room.”

 

“I need to talk to him,” Steve began, staring down into his own coffee, “I need to get a picture for the feds of where we are with this, what kind of case we can build up on Alistair,” he paused, swallowing, as if the next thing was difficult to say. “We found the kids.” Chris didn’t say anything, waiting for Steve to continue, “… in rooms… cells even… eleven of them… one of them… he was just fourteen,” the words were difficult. Neither man spoke, overwhelmed with what they were part of, what they had seen, the enormity of it all, and children, locked away for sex.

 

“Steve.” Jared’s voice at the door. What he had overheard neither Steve nor Chris could say, his face pale but impassive. He had pulled on sweats that were too short for him, a T shirt that was a little tight, and his hair looked wild, like he had spent hours running hands through it. He looked exhausted.

 

“Jared, please, sit if you want, erm… do you want coffee?” Steve didn’t wait for a reply standing and filling another mug, adding cream and sugar and placing it gently on the table in front of Jared. Jared sat carefully, his arm muscles screaming in a new pain, a pain of stiffness and lack of painkillers. Steve added water and meds to the table and sat back, watching as Jared knocked back the pain meds and the water and then took a sip of the coffee.

 

“I need to… talk to you Jared… to…” Steve paused again, cursing that the feds thought this would be better coming from him. “In exchange for protection… witness protection… they want you to give evidence…”

 

Silence. Jared just sat, looking down into coffee, his long chestnut hair curled around his angular face, his cat’s eyes focused on the steam that curled into the air.

 

“They found the kids Jared…” Chris emphasised, “…in cells and they - ” 

 

“I heard what you said,” Jared interrupted, looking up from his coffee, first at Chris, determination in his eyes, a frown on his face, then over at Steve. 

 

“I don't want or need any kind of new life..." he paused, "I’ll stand for them, for the kids, I’ll…I’ll stand,” he said simply. There were no other words.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

It was inevitable that Connor would finally ask about his mom.

 

It was a simple question that he asked when he finally woke from his nap, and as he stood in the doorway to the kitchen looking in at Uncle Chris, and the man who had got his daddy out and the other man that got his daddy out.

 

“Hey Connor,” Chris smiled, pulling his chair back and holding his arms out for a hug, “you hungry… or thirsty?” Connor moved into Chris’s close hug, his voice low against Chris’s shirt.

 

“Like Barney…” he started, and Chris’s heart fell, remembering the rabbit Jensen had bought Connor, remembering the drama of it’s death only months before, Chris knew where this was heading, ready or not Connor needed to know, “…is my mommy in heaven too?” Heaven was such an abstract concept and one Connor didn’t fully understand; he just knew it was a safe place, daddy had said so, a safe and happy place, where there was plenty of grass and lots of other rabbits to play with. Connor wasn’t entirely sure that his mom would be that impressed by grass or rabbits to play with, but in his head he imagined it was a place that mom could find stuff she liked, stuff like Oprah and chocolate. 

 

Chris swallowed, catching Jared’s eyes over Connors tousled hair and closing his own eyes briefly. “Yes Connor, she is in heaven now.” Chris wanted to say something else, something perfect for Connor to remember when he was older, something at a child’s age now that would ease Connor into the start of dealing with his grief as much as a five year old could. Connor was quiet and still, his face pushed into Chris’s soft shirt, fat tears soaking into the red material and his small hands clenched at each side of his face. His mom was gone, to go live with Barney and his friends, he wanted to go too, it sounded so nice, like it was inside his television on his favourite cartoons. He wondered if Chris was pretending; sometimes Uncle Chris did that, he pretended about stuff and it made his daddy laugh so much he sometimes cried. He didn’t think Uncle Chris was pretending, he had seen mommy’s new friend hurting her, shouting at her, and he shouted at Connor as well and really Connor didn’t like him.

 

“You’re not pretending are ya?” he asked pulling his head back to look up at his uncle’s face, a face that was familiar and reassuring.

 

“Not pretending little guy.” Uncle Chris said. He sounded sad to Connor and a little bit scared and Connor felt scared too. 

 

“I’m scared.” He said softly, wishing daddy were here, wishing daddy wasn’t asleep in another room where Connor couldn’t reach him. He felt Chris tighten his hold on him and it felt safe and warm.

 

“Don’t be scared Con, I’ll sort it.” Uncle Chris always sorted everything, so Connor nodded and shyly looked at the other two men from under long lashes, daddy wasn’t here but Chris would get him awake and then they could go home and he wouldn’t have to worry about mom’s crying anymore cos she was OK now. All OK.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Chris stood at the door of Jensen’s room, his hold on Connor tight and almost uncomfortable for the small boy, who wriggled impatiently to be let down, jumping to the floor and in one flurry of movement was up by his daddy, leaning over his face and placing a trail of sticky boy kisses over pale freckled skin.

 

“Daddy, wake up daddy, me’n Chris’a here,” Connor pouted as Jensen didn’t move and looked back at Chris, carefully avoiding the wires and leads that led from his daddy’s still form. 

 

“He’s sleeping munchkin,” Chris said softly, crossing to look down at his peaceful friend, the same grief in his gut every time he visited with Connor. It had been five days now, and the doctors had again approached him for the forms to be signed, and again he had refused.

 

They sat next to the bed for an hour, Connor restless and chattering away about anything and everything and nothing. Chris stood. They had got into the routine of giving Connor some time alone with his daddy; Chris watching from outside without him knowing, just letting him climb up and sit with Jensen, his small hands touching and feeling, his voice clear, asking daddy to wake up.

 

Today was no different and Chris gave the usual excuse, coffee, I’ll bring juice, leaving Connor to watch him leave before clambering up to cuddle into his daddy. Chris stood just outside, watching through the tilted blinds, tears thick in his throat, as Connor stroked and touched and whispered into his daddy’s ear, words solely between them and God.

 

This time, it took him longer to go back in, it was impossible to stop the tears and a nurse had stopped to talk, concerned, asking after his feelings, damn it he didn’t have feelings, he was numb. It was a good twenty minutes before he returned.

 

Returned to two pairs of jade eyes looking at him, Connor sitting proudly on the bed next to his daddy.

 

“See”, he said gleefully, a mischievous smile on his face “told ya I could make him wake up, I’m good at that”

 

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

 

“Department Liaison?” Jared read the title on the card that Steve had just handed him, turning it over in his hand, his name in full on the reverse and his designation in dark bold writing. He coughed and swallowed at what Steve was asking him to do and he really wasn’t sure what to say in response. He went over the conversation in his head, absently twisting the card; ‘I know this is a lot to ask,’ Steve had started, ‘but we are kind of out of our depth a bit with the kids, and I know you helped that other girl, we could do with someone… experienced… to maybe help with the kids and the department and the families, if we find any families that is.’

 

Jared had listened, wasn’t entirely sure how qualified he was for this, he was a hooker not a social worker, and he didn’t really have an awful lot in common with the kids. Jeez, he had decided to do what he did, he had made a conscious decision to use his body for money, they hadn’t made a choice, had been forced into what they did.

 

“I’m not sure,” he finally said, “not sure what I can do, what point there is in me getting involved now.” The finality of the words hung between them, Steve concerned but encouraging, Jared confused and certain he was not the person Steve was looking for.

 

“There is no pressure here Jared, we know what you have been through, your injuries, Jensen, we know it may be too much - ”

 

“Too much?” Jared interrupted, a tinge of anger in him, “it’s not too much, I just don’t see where I add value here,” god, he almost sounded intelligent then.

 

“Come with me to… just come with me, maybe help us process stuff?” Steve looked earnest and supportive, and Jared glanced around the empty house. Chris and Connor had gone to the hospital, again, now Jensen was awake they spent a lot of time there. It had been nearly a week now since the events of that fateful night. Jared and Chris and Connor still under protection at the safe house, Jensen still in the hospital, alive, awake, but still very ill. Jared was housebound, bored, irritable, needy and right now leaving with Steve, in a secure convoy or not made him almost light headed with relief.

 

“Yeah. I don’t know what I can do that is any different to others, but yeah, I’ll come.” Determined he clipped the ID to his shirt and smiled, a soft, almost uncertain smile, but the first smile that hit his face in the week.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Jensen asked to be propped up and Chris was quick to beat the nurse to it, fussing and pushing and levering until his friend sat up, helping Connor to climb and sit next to him, Cat in a Hat clutched in his hands ready to read to his dad. Chris exchanged an amused smile with Jensen, Connor didn’t so much read as remember what words went with what pictures, but this time was for the two of them. Connor reading, Jensen listening and hugging, it was precious time, not marred by the security with guns at the door, nor marred by Jensen’s pain, it was just good honest father son time.

 

Chris took the cue to leave, and ended up sitting in the front waiting room, watching curiously as Jared arrived with Steve, both men talking low and urgently as they walked into the hospital wing, security flanking them. They stopped in front of Chris, Steve offering a small smile, Jared jittery, almost hopping from one foot to the other, his forehead creased in a frown.

 

“You said yes?” Chris asked softly, standing and tossing his empty coffee cup into the bin. If anything Jared frowned harder, Chris knew what Steve was going to ask? He looked at Steve, his eyes narrowing, all Steve did was raise his hands palm up in innocence. 

 

“I wasn’t sure how to ask you,” Steve offered in excuse, “and Chris said I should just come out with it.” 

 

“Hmmm,” was Jared’s offering to the conversation, still not entirely comfortable he was even being here, and he shifted uncomfortably, his arm sore in the sling. Chris just touched his other arm, in reassurance, and smiled.

 

“It could be a good thing you do here Jared,” he said, watching as Jared shrugged, and suddenly very aware he may have come across as condescending. Jared was a grown man, with a life of experiences, a man who risked his own life for first that girl, Ali, then for Jensen and Connor. “Sorry,” he immediately offered. “That was crass,” he added, but Jared just shrugged.

 

“Lets get on with it,” Jared said almost irritably, his nerves getting the better of him, wanting to just get on with meeting the kids. Steve led him past Chris, down a corridor, through the maze of signs and posters until they reached yet another security cordoned door. Steve waited for clearance, showing his ID, waiting for Jared to get with the plan and show his too.

 

Finally they arrived at the room, a large room, eight faces turning to Jared as he entered, eight faces, children.

 

Jared stopped, Steve almost walking into him, suddenly very scared, very much out of his depth. He fucked for a living, he was good at it, and what did he know about abuse, about children?

 

They looked at him expectantly

 

He looked at them with abject horror inside him that he tried not to show.

 

Steve rested a hand on the small of Jared’s back, a reassuring hand, a touch, support, go on, the hand said, go on….

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Chris had gone with Connor, Steve had left to do whatever Steve did… and Jared? Jared didn’t know what to think, what to say, his twenty six years not preparing him for what he had just been through. He needed… needed… to share this… to talk… and that was how he found himself outside Jensen’s door at nearly midnight, charming the night nurse to let him visit.

 

Jensen was sleeping. A natural sleep, with no tubes, some of the bandages removed, colour in his face, and Jared sat in the visitor’s chair and leaned his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his clasped hands. He had so much in his head to process, and there was a singular peace in this room that allowed him to file his thoughts.

 

“Jared?” Jensen’s voice was a question in the dim light and it startled Jared from his thoughts. He tried to smile, but it just wouldn’t work, nothing could make him smile, he wanted to cry. He said nothing, the grief inside him, the stories he had in his head, the children who had been hurt so much brought to life in his eyes, bubbling and spitting to the surface, his stomach in knots, finally tears forcing their way out of tormented eyes, Jensen sighing and holding out a hand.

 

“Tell me,” was all he said, even as Jared slipped a hand into his and fell in a tangled mess against Jensen. 

 

“Jamie he had a family, they owed Alistair, they sold him for drugs, you know, how sick is that, he was 14, and Ryan… Ryan he doesn’t have a family, Alistair and his crew, they were his family, he has HIV, and Teri, fifteen Jensen, she had a abortion, he forced her… a… a backstreet abortion… she… she cant have children of her own now.”

 

“I’m sorry Jared,” was all Jensen could say, his hand gripping Jared’s tightly, hoping that touch would help, knowing that was all he could give.

 

“Ali, my Ali, they knew her, she had a family, was a runaway, he told them she was dead, told them she had run, that he had killed her,” he stopped, his words shaky with tears and fear, clutching at Jensen, burying his face into the sheets, tight grief pulling and catching and forcing a need for touch, inhaling the scent of hospital and Jensen, in his desperation.

 

“Jared, please, Jared look at me,” he tried to get Jared to lift his head, had so much to say, I’ll help you, Jared, please… just clutching the younger man to him in an overwhelming need to comfort. Jared finally lifted his head, his eyes swimming with tears, so much regret painted on his face. They just looked…Jensen didn’t know what words would help. He released Jared’s hand, lifted both hands, wincing at the ache, and cupped the younger man’s face, whispering nonsense, reaching someway, not close enough to touch. Time stood still, the grief inside Jared so clear so sharp, his head full of anguish and pain, but he moved. Closer to Jensen, until only sobbing breaths separated him from the older man, until only one decision stood between them. It was no decision at all.

 

Neither made the move, both made the move, a soft touch of lips and then as tears mingled with heated breath it was Jared that forced his way in, pushed through parted lips with his tongue, searching and tasting, the salt of tears in Jensen. It was hard and forceful, it was Jared the hooker, it was take charge Jared, guiding Jared… and then it changed. Jensen gentled him, the kisses deeper as they fought for breath, Jensen’s fingers twisting into chestnut hair anchoring his hands pulling him closer.

 

They kissed for so long, alternating between breath stealing touches and simply brushes of lips, exchanging words of promise and support, neither one wanting to stop until finally it was Jared who sleepily clambered up next to Jensen and kiss bit his way to his pulse, snuggling in for his heat and setting up a rhythmic caress on bare skin until sleep took them both.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Steve was startled awake by his cell, Chris murmuring in his sleep and curling into Steve’s side, as Steve reached over.

 

“Carlson,” he said as softly as he could, before listening to the brief message. He closed the call, lying back on the pillows, his hand reflexively reaching for his new lover, just to touch.

 

“Steve?” Chris asked softly, his vowels drawn out in sleep.

 

“They found Alistair,” he responded softly, his head spinning, watching as carefully Chris turned to face him.

 

“Alistair,” he breathed softly, an unspoken question in his voice. 

 

“Dead, half eaten by the sound of it, off the road on the interstate to the hills,” Steve offered softly, leaning up to kiss Chris softly, insistently.

 

“It’s over?” Chris said wonderingly, returning each kiss until he arched into Steve.

 

“It’s over,” Steve replied, curling hands into warm skin. It’s only just begun.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Four months later

 

Jensen manoeuvred carefully past the boxes, Connor running excitedly in and out trailing his teddy and the dogs; the chaos of the house move way above his head. Jensen still ached to his bones, and he still struggled with the number work that as an accountant he had found so simple before, but he was here, alive, Connor’s dad, Jared’s lover, Jared’s friend. 

 

In fact today was new house day, new house, new beginning, Connor enrolled at the local school, adorable, confident and close to his sixth birthday. Counselling had helped him, but the child in him still saw mom in heaven with Barney and Oprah and chocolate, and after all who was Jensen to disagree.

 

Jared was away, at the halfway house, the last of Alistair’s children leaving today, replaced soon enough Jensen imagined with another of Jared’s children of the street. Jared was still a toppy bastard, still the take charge Jared that had emerged from the hell that they had been through, but between them, between Jensen and Jared, there was balance and that was what was important.

 

He was due home tonight, due home to the chaos, to home. Home.

 

Jensen sighed as the dogs and Connor collapsed in a sweaty heap at the back door, looking out in to a yard with grass and trees, an investment of Jared’s money, Jensen’s money, in joint names, a haven for Connor to experience the happiest childhood he could, free of fear and sadness. 

 

He sensed Jared was home even before he heard him, a connection so deep, so tight, it was sometimes scary. Jensen moved to the door, his face broken in a broad grin as his giant of a lover leapt from his truck, a similar grin smiling back at him.

 

“Hi honey I’m home,” he shouted with no small amount of glee colouring the words, and launched a full frontal kissing attack as he reached the door, pushing Jensen back inside and leaning him back against the now closed door.

 

Their kisses were slow, casual, comfortable, then heated and frenzied as they pushed against each other, only calming as Jared pulled back scanning for Connor, and seeing him asleep, again, in a pile of sable fur. Seeing their son asleep Jared took advantage, guiding Jensen round the corner, eager hands pulling at clothing and skin, sliding in a rhythm as old as time, Jared leaning his head back opening his throat to Jensen’s bruising kisses.

 

“I love you, I love you,” he whispered again and again, his voice so low it was almost silent. Jensen pulled back, trying to calm his breathing and instead holding Jared’s face between strong hands.

 

“I love you,” he whispered.

 

Welcome home

 

 

The End


End file.
